


Redefining a Firestarter

by MueraRashaye



Series: Friends Across Borders [9]
Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Blood Magic, Bromance, Bullying, Conspiracy, Gen, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Necromancy, Politics, Referenced Torture, References to witchburning, Set it on fire!, War, referenced rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 132,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3063929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MueraRashaye/pseuds/MueraRashaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solaris, True Born Son of the Sun, has Ascended.</p><p>The work has just begun. Time to rediscover the Old Ways, craft new ones and hopefully an Old but new Firestarting Order will be able to emerge from the ashes. Thankfully, one Ancar of Hardorn has obligingly offered plenty of fuel for rebuilding their reputation as protectors of the innocent, rather than burners of children.</p><p>Let us set them on fire!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summons

“Good service,” Anur said quietly to Kir as the temple failed to clear. A few remained behind to pray, but for the most part people just didn’t want to go back into the bitter snowy cold. No storm, unusually enough, but still freezing and snow covered.

Kir had a wondering sort of gleam in his eye as he looked at the altar, the Ever-Burning flame crackling cheerfully. “I didn’t light it,” he murmured.

Anur blinked, “What?”

“I didn’t light it,” Kir repeated, keeping his voice down but his entire expression had lit up at this point, a smile growing across his face, “Anur, _I didn’t light it_!”

 _:No one lit the fires this year,:_ an unfamiliar voice echoed in their thoughts, everyone in the temple falling silent immediately and turning to Anur, who held up his hands and said, “Not me!”

A warm chuckle, and the fire flared, a massive cat leaping down from the sun-drenched flames and settling at the base of the altar, tail wrapped around his paws. Even if Anur hadn’t ever seen Kir’s Cat of Fire, had never been shown rough sketches done by the twins, he would have somehow known what this Cat was.

_:I am Hansa.:_

As one, everyone in the room kneeled; Anur still thought that his original idea as to what a Firecat was would be more awe inspiring though.

_:No, no, my kin. Do not kneel to me. I am no Son of Sun – and even she, long may she shine, would refuse your gestures. It is I who should kneel to you, faithful followers of the One God, who have shone so brightly. Please, rise.:_

The Cat waited until they’d all regained their feet before continuing, _:I come bearing glad tidings. Solaris has Ascended, a True Born Son of the Sun has Risen, long may she shine. And We thank every one of you and yours for your faithful service towards this glorious day.:_

A tap of his paw on the ground and in a curl of flame, a seal and ribbon bedecked scroll appeared on the altar, the Cat looking over to Kir with gleaming blue eyes and he said, _:I look forward to seeing you once more in Sunhame, brother.:_

And the Firecat vanished in a mote of sunlight.

Everyone was silent as Kir took the few slow steps back to the altar, taking the scroll and cracking the seal, reading the message quickly before hesitantly relaying, “I am to report to Sunhame the moment the roads clear sufficiently, and will likely remain there. A replacement will be sent.”

At last, there was chaos.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Captain Ulrich had, with assistance from Sergeant Greich’s bellow and stern glare, quickly settled the majority of the shouting and told the unit that matters were going to be discussed _calmly_ by a small group and then they would be informed of the decision. The small group wound up being the usual informal council, consisting of the three initial conspiring Sunsguard officers and Kir and Anur, all convening in the sacristy where they found seats on benches or perched on tables, Kir pacing the length of the room with the summons left open next to Anur.

“I don’t like the idea of a replacement,” Greich said finally, clearly saying what the other two had struggled with wording and definitely relaying the majority of the sentiments Kir had managed to pick out from the sudden explosion of noise. “To be perfectly honest, the boys love you, Father Kir and anyone sent to take your place will face one hell of a time, picked out by the new Son of Sun, long my she shine – and _that_ phrase will take getting used to, let me say – or not.”

“I don’t like the idea of leaving,” Kir confessed, interlacing his hands in the small of his back to keep them from trembling as he walked, “There have been… veiled hints, in the letters, that I may be called to Sunhame, but to be there permanently…”

“What if you were given an acolyte?” Anur suggested, the four Karsites turning to him with raised eyebrows and he shrugged, “You don’t want Kir to go, but quite frankly, he has to. If we’re going to get this Valdemar alliance above board, if we’re going to get the Firestarting Order reformed, Kir needs to be in the center of it. I don’t want to go either, really, as much as Sunhame is supposed to be beautiful, I was quite happy as a border-post Herald because it let me avoid court politics, and this is even worse because religion is involved. And worse than _that,_ it’s a religious revolution. An acolyte means Kir’s not really _replaced_ , that he still has a place here, is the chaplain, but lets him leave without depriving you of the services of a priest.”

“So it would essentially be what we do now, except with longer absences and someone to conduct services while he is away,” Ulrich mused, “I can sell that to the men, and can accept it as a solution, so long as there is the understanding that Father Kir’s _home_ is with us, so long as he wishes it.”

Kir felt his throat close up at that and blinked rapidly to avoid going misty-eyed – thankfully, the others allowed him a moment to regain his composure. To think, in a mere five years he had gone from waiting for a knife in the back to having them fight to keep him. The captain had hit the nail on the head, he truly considered the 62nd his home, had for almost his entire service though only relatively recently had it truly become a _home_ and not just a home-base. He didn’t want to lose that, revolution in Sunhame or no.

“I would be honored to remain chaplain for the 62nd,” he managed to say.

“Don’t be so down, everybody,” Greich chimed in dryly, “We are all, after all, likely to be on the forefront of Valdemar-Karse relations. We’re somewhat experts on it now. And there’s still Hardorn to deal with, on top of all this revolutionary nonsense.”

Leave it to the sergeant to brush off years of impatient struggle after centuries of oppressive rulership as simple nonsense, Kir thought wryly, the chuckles circling the room suggesting he wasn’t alone in his observation.

“Now here’s the real question,” Janner finally spoke, “How are we going to convince the men not to march on Sunhame and demand their priest back? They’d at least try it before it occurred to one of the hotheads that maybe marching on a Son of Sun with a Firecat on call is a bad idea. We’re not exactly used to miracles being an obstacle, or being a consideration at all for that matter, Father Kir’s flames aside.”

“There is nothing miraculous about my flames,” Kir refuted immediately, shying from the memory of the false Cat of Fire and the true miracle he had faked. He had learned his lesson, had _asked for help_ and had received it. He had to let it go.

“As for the actual question,” Anur smirked, “That’s easy. Tell them Kir’s not going to be replaced, he’s just needed in Sunhame to glare at people when they argue overmuch and once the idiots get in line he’ll be back until they forget or he needs to set something on fire and heads out again. In the meantime, they get to break in the new Sunpriest to the idea that Valdemarans aren’t all that bad, and the Sunsguard don’t need to kowtow to a priest that throws his weight around needlessly.”

Greich started chuckling, “Tell them they’re the gauntlet! Oh they’ll love that – especially since I made them lighten up on Nichter a moon or so ago.”

Kir carefully ignored that last, instead saying, “I don’t think we’d be sent a particularly troublesome rep – acolyte,” he corrected, seeing the sharp glares sent his way, “So there won’t be any need for truly harsh measures, but…” here his lips twitched, “I suppose the shock factor alone will be rather amusing.”

“I’m sure one of the lads has decent artistic ability,” Greich smirked, “Perhaps we’ll get a sketch for posterity.”

“It’s agreed then?” Ulrich spoke after their amusement subsided, “Father Kir answers the summons on the understanding that there will be no replacement until he wishes it so, only an acolyte to serve as basic chaplain during his absences? And potentially a clause saying that we are only sent those that have a decent entertainment value?”

“I think we’ll cut the last clause in official communications,” Kir replied dryly, feeling a surge of affection for this ridiculous unit he had somehow come to call his own. Even as Janner disparaged the other men of the unit as hotheads who would march on Sunhame without a thought to the consequences, the fact that these three even dared to consider questioning an edict of Sunhame, dared to _put conditions_ on their compliance with an edict of Sunhame – it was a step in a direction he wasn’t entirely certain Solaris had intended for this revolution of hers to go.

But it was a step he was so very, very proud they had made.

Because it was one thing, to profess unthinking obedience, unquestioning loyalty, to one’s God, to one’s ideals. It was another thing entirely to profess unthinking obedience and unquestioning loyalty to another person, even a person chosen and favored by that same God, following similar ideals. Somehow these three, this whole blessed _unit_ , had come to realize that distinction, to understand that fine line and to realize that it was their _duty_ , their _responsibility_ , to ensure that those in power, those placed into power by the will of their God, did not forget that though they had the blessing, they did not have absolute power. Only one Being had that, and no matter how exalted, no human was equal to Him.

And he had somehow become very, very distracted from the fact that they were in the middle of trying to actually come to a decision.

“I concur, and will write it out with appropriate wording,” Greich supplied, “I’ve written enough of the blasted formal notices to know the language, and it will probably be better received coming from a member of the unit rather than Father Kir himself.”

“And then we two will sign it,” Janner inclined his head towards the Captain, “That should be sufficient to at least bring notice to the fact that we’re not letting Father Kir go so easily.”

“Should it be necessary, I’m sure every man in the unit would sign the same thing,” Ulrich agreed, a small smile on his face, “Now, let’s go sell this to them. And get you both some better armor, your current stuff is a little worn. Can’t have two of our own representing us in Sunhame with shoddy armor!”

“Can’t have two of our own _in Sunhame_ with shoddy armor,” Greich snorted, heading for the door, “Place was a vipers nest, now they’ve gone and kicked it full of holes and hornets – it’s going to be ugly.”

“Yes, this is definitely making me want to go,” Anur groaned, “Can I pass?”

“I think not,” Kir replied crisply, clapping his friend on the shoulder, “I have plans for you as a human shield.”


	2. A City in the Sun

“It is difficult to describe how much I utterly loathe this city,” Kir said finally, the two of them having been sitting on horseback a distance from the bounds of Sunhame for near a mark now. Anur sat up from where he’d draped himself over his saddle-bags, asking, “Does that mean we’re actually going in now?”

“Maybe if we stand here long enough it will eventually vanish?” Kir asked doubtfully, staring at the ribbon and seal bedecked summons in his hand.

“You realize you’re hoping for an entire city, filled with people _and Solaris_ to just disappear, right?” Anur asked dryly. This was actually rather entertaining – with the years they’d had traipsing all across Karse, he’d never actually seen the capital city; just heard volumes about its many failings. He’d been treated to a repeat of the entire rant in the days it took them to travel here, longer than usual since they hadn’t actually waited for the melt to happen entirely and had instead taken off a week after Midwinter. Kir apparently couldn’t live with the anticipation any longer.

“Well at the least the temple could be to one _side_ so we don’t have to go through the entire blasted city to _get_ to it,” Kir retorted, exasperated, “How many times have we been glared at on the road already? And that’s with small villages and travelers chapels, we enter that mess and we’ll be mobbed! I don’t like mobs, Anur! And I can’t even set them on fire!”

“Woah, woah, calm down,” Anur said worriedly, Aelius side-stepping so he could rest a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “This is new.”

Kir tensed, before sighing heavily, slumping slightly in his saddle, “Not really,” he said ruefully, “Just… we were feared, before, Anur. Now that the reason for fearing us has been doused – they’ll remember what we took, what we did. Fear turns to hate very, very easily.”

“You’ve been thinking about this,” he replied, sitting back in the saddle and crossing his arms, staring at the city thoughtfully.

“I’ve had to,” Kir grimaced, “If I’m not mistaken, the reason for this summons is for me to bring the remainder of the Firestarting Order to heel. I don’t doubt at least some of them are utterly terrified and responding violently to it. Terror isn’t something people in their position would be used to.”

“Fantastic,” Anur muttered.

“Well,” he finally said, “What if we just presented ourselves as Sunsguard, summoned to Sunhame for some incomprehensible reason? I ditch the sash, you leave the robes – I’ll be the officer since you don’t have any rank insignia, and that should get us through the worst of it.”

Kir blinked, wondering for a moment why that hadn’t occurred to him before nodding, “Agreed,” he said, passing the summons off to Anur and dismounting so he could remove all indications of his ordination. He hesitated over his witch-horse Sun in Glory, before leaving it and instead adjusting his armored vest to cover it. Fixing his flame colored scarf from Anna, he folded up his robes and left the bundle loosely secured to the top of his packs, just in case.

“Now being the officer in charge is going to be strange,” Anur mused, eyeing the summons in his hand and Kir smirked at him before the Herald finally shrugged and said, “Well, we’ve stalled long enough, let’s get going.”

Somehow, their plans never seemed to quite work out, Kir thought ruefully a mere half-mark later. They had reached the gates easily enough and had only needed to flash the seal of the Son of Sun to be sent along through the city. It wasn’t until they got to the entrance to the Temple itself that they’d be asked to present their orders fully, so if they’d managed to make it there without their cover as regular Sunsguard being blown, it all would have gone according to Anur’s simplistically brilliant plan.

But partway through the craftsman’s ring, they heard a commotion and Kir heard the word ‘Firestarter’. The word, and the tone, one of an angry eagerness, meant they had followed the sounds until they hit the backs of a small crowd, unable to truly hear or see what was going on in the middle, but that eager anger he’d heard was only amplified, meaning whatever was going on, he didn’t particularly care for it.

“Excuse me,” he asked a young woman, tapping her on the shoulder, “But could you tell us what is going on?”

“A Firestarter came through the quarter,” she said, eyeing his Sunsguard uniform with an appreciative gleam in her eye.

Perhaps not wearing his robes hadn’t been such a good idea?

“A Firestarter? Now?” Anur jumped in, careful to sound incredulous, “You would think they’d have the sense to stay away until the Son of Sun sorts them all out.”

“Yes well, it seems some people have decided to sort this one out themselves,” Kir said dryly, the young woman nodding and saying, “There have been grumbles for a few days now –“

Anything further she was going to say was interrupted by Anur’s cry. He had jumped up into the saddle to try and get a better view, and it hadn’t taken long for him to identify the Firestarter in question.

“It’s Rodri!”         

Kir’s world tinged red. Throwing himself into Riva’s saddle, the gelding surged forward with Aelius, people somehow parting before them, but not particularly gently.

“ _Enough!”_ he roared, black-trimmed red settling around his shoulders even as Riva launched over the heads of the innermost ring of the mob. He jumped out of the saddle, lashing out with a burst of flame to keep them back and feeling a furious snarl erupt from his throat. Anur and Aelius settled in behind him, Anur quickly dismounting and heading to Rodri, who had pressed himself up against a building’s brick wall while the angry city-folk circled in. No blows, no weapons, thank the One God, just a poisonous sort of anger coming out in words that could be just as hurtful.

“How _dare_ you!” he shouted, eyes blazing with fury, “He is a _child_ , an _initiate_! You, who judge us, who call us evil even as you supported us two short weeks ago, would hold a _child_ responsible for the deaths of your loved ones?”

There was no response, people white-faced and terrified now that they had an adult, a true _Firestarter_ to deal with. Kir scoffed, saying, “Oh yes, all of you, so brave in showing your displeasure, your anger, your _hatred_ when there is no opposition, but the moment an _adult_ stands before you, calls you to task, you cower like dogs!”

“If you are to condemn anyone for being a Firestarter, condemn _me_!” he declared, eyes roving through the crowd and picking out the occasional ashamed expression, the scattered bowed heads, and feeling a sharp satisfaction in their shame. “Condemn an _adult_ , a Firestarter who actually _burned_ those children we had called witches! Not a child who escaped that same fate by sheer luck and happenstance!”

Giving one last glare, he turned his back on them and met Rodri’s still frightened gaze, feeling his expression soften to one of concern, saying quietly, “Are you all right, Rodri?”

“Father Kir,” the young teen gasped, colliding against Kir’s chest, shoulders shaking. “Easy, easy,” Kir murmured, wrapping his arms around him in a loose embrace, mentally thanking the practice all the Bellamys had given him, “You’re all right. You’re officially a Firestarter Initiate then?”

“A moon ago, yeah,” the boy mumbled, Anur stepping past them and standing between them and the uneasily shifting crowd, “Don’t even think about it,” he heard Anur snarl over a rasp of steel, “You’ll have to get through _me_ first.”

“And _us_ ,” a rough and achingly familiar voice said, startled yelps and mumbles coming from where three men and a woman came shoving their way through the crowd to stand next to Anur, the oldest of the men turning towards Rodri and Kir and giving a grim smile, continuing, “Sorry it took us so long to get here, Rodri. But it seems your brother Firestarter here has things well in hand.”

Every one of them were dressed in heavy leathers and thin clothes, used to the heat of the forge even in winter, and every one of them had makeshift weapons of forge-tools in hand. Kir felt a surge of affection for this group and for this man in particular, “It is good to see you agan, Axeli. Thank you for looking after Rodri.”

The grizzled old blacksmith, with a few more scars and a few more wrinkles than when Kir had last seen him but otherwise unchanged, gave a beaming smile at that, laughing and coming up to clap Kir on the shoulder, “Kir Dinesh as I live and breathe! It _is_ you! I guessed so, seeing as I think you’re the only Firestarter outside of Sunhame, but couldn’t be sure, it’s been what, twelve years and my eyesight is not the best anymore.”

“More like nearly fourteen,” Kir said wryly, having a brief moment of wondering where all the time had gone before he returned to the present. “Rodri, were you on the way to the forge?”

“Yes,” Rodri said, finally pulling away a bit but Kir kept an arm draped over the boy’s shoulders protectively. “Thank you for coming, Master Axeli.”

“Somehow, I will convince you to call me by my given name alone before your ordination,” the forgemaster grumbled, “Never managed with your mentor but by Vkandis I’ll manage it with you! Now, I take it this protective fellow is the Enforcer you mentioned in your stories? _Make a hole people show’s over get a move on I have some work to be doing!_ ” he bellowed over his shoulder, the slowly dispersing crowd moving much faster.

“Lieutenant-Enforcer Anur Bellamy,” Anur introduced himself after sheathing his blades, “I watch his back and shoot the ones that run in the leg.”

“That was only the Oathbreaker,” Kir grumbled half-heartedly, nodding his head to the two members of Axeli’s entourage he recognized – his daughter Breta, some years older than him and if he wasn’t mistaken, the boy that had been courting her when he was ordained, Yakob or something similar.

“The Oathbreaker?” Rodri perked up, “That story was real? And it was you?”

“I don’t know the story, but there was an Oathbreaker and we did declare him Nameless and kill him,” Kir replied briskly, clicking his tongue against his teeth and calling, “Riva!”

The gelding walked over to him and nudged his shoulder, “Yes, yes, we’re moving,” he muttered, Axeli catching it and nodding, saying, “We’ll walk with you to the Temple gates, could use the chance to catch up. Don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be in the forges right now, Rodri.”

“Oh,” the teen said quietly, Kir tightening his arm briefly and Axeli hastened to elaborate, “Not because you’re not welcome, lad, far from it. No one there is quite this stupid,” he glared at the by now almost entirely vacated street, “But if you have troubles getting there – and you won’t be calm enough for controlled flames my lad, not to the standards we need. Detail work, you know.”

“Oh,” Rodri repeated, tension in his shoulders easing and he smiled up at Axeli, “You’re probably right,” he agreed, “I just – wanted to get out of the Temple.”

“I don’t blame you,” Kir informed him, “I planned the majority of my life around never setting foot in the Temple District again. I would be more than happy to escape at a later date to catch up with Axeli, perhaps in two days?”

“We’ll be in the forges,” Axeli agreed, “You’ll all three come then?”

“I’m not leaving him in the Temple unsupervised,” Kir said dryly, nodding towards Anur, who snorted and said, “Like I’d let you wander around Sunhame without someone watching your bac- woah. Impressive.”

“The gates are rather impressive,” Breta spoke up, pride in her voice, “It’s too bad you’re seeing the tradesman’s gate – the Eastern Gate of the Sun! Now _that_ is magnificent!”

“Here’s where we leave you then,” Axeli said, clapping Kir on the shoulder with well-concealed worry in his eyes, “Take care of yourself in there.”

There had been very few Sons of Sun to take power without bloodshed, Kir knew. That was the most likely source of his friend’s concern – that, and the knowledge that Kir had been sent from Sunhame in the first place to die the death of the politically inconvenient.

“Before we go any further, I would like to point out that fleeing the country is still on the table,” Anur said cheerfully, serious expression belying his tone. Kir chuckled, shaking his head as the three blacksmiths departed after quiet farewells to Rodri, “We’re not fleeing the country, Anur. Three years of work for this and run now? No, there is still too much to do.”

“Though if I do get permanently assigned to Sunhame I might take you up on that,” he corrected, Rodri and Anur both snorting before they continued forward, Kir finally removing his arm from Rodri’s shoulders and the boy moving away from his side. Until he knew where he stood in this new regime, it would be best if they weren’t linked any further than they would be by entering at the same time.

One step into the Temple District itself, a simple matter of flashing his summons scroll and even that was probably unnecessary, and he was very glad that Rodri was already well on his way to some _entirely different_ destination. The tension in the air was a palpable, heavy thing – the only thing he could compare it to was the choking fear that rogue Empath had produced.

Anur hissed between his teeth, eyes sweeping the elaborate cobbled paths and carefully trimmed gardens leading this way and that to various gold-drenched and dramatically carved buildings meant at one point only to glorify their God. When Kir had ridden out of here, eager to shake the dust of Sunhame from his feet, there was seldom an hour where these paths were abandoned, even in the wee hours of the morning. Now though, it was barely a mark before noon and he could only see a handful of people moving about, and all of them had the hurried, head-down focus of the desperately afraid.

“This – isn’t good,” Anur murmured, Kir inclining his head slightly and replying lowly, “Let’s settle the horses, stables aren’t far.”

The stables at least seemed normal and Kir could feel both of them relax at the usual bustle that came around animals. Whickers greeted them, a stablehand taking one glance at them before hurrying forward, bowing to Kir and saying, “Your Holiness, how may I serve?”

“If we could be directed to two available stalls, preferably close to one another, and a place to store our tack, we would be much obliged,” Kir replied politely.

“How long will you be staying in the District?” the boy – more like a young man, he looked around fourteen – asked, straightening and seeming to relax at Kir’s tone and relatively simple questions.

“Unknown,” Kir grimaced, “At least five days.”

“Right, follow me please, sirs,” they were quickly led to two rather large stalls, freshly prepared and, even better, next to one another. “Are there any special notes for your horses, Your Holiness?”

“Both are battle trained,” Kir exaggerated slightly, “But of good temperament. We will tend to them ourselves as frequently as possible, there were no true details in our summons, I’m afraid. If they’re to be turned out, it would probably be best if they were taken together.”

“Battle-trained, partnered, yes sir – any dietary concerns or medical issues that need observation?” the boy was making notes on the small slates hanging next to the stall doors – new from the last time he was here, but a very good idea.

“None,” Kir assured him.

“Excellent, would you be settling them yourselves then?” At Kir’s nod, he continued, “Then in a few minutes I’ll return to show you where to place your tack. Your Holiness, Enforcer,” with another quick bow, he was gone. The calm competence was reassuring, Kir found, and the stablehand’s timing was excellent as no sooner had the two of them exited the stalls with their saddles balanced on their shoulders than he returned.

“You sure we need to leave?” Anur asked, only half-joking, as they headed out of the stables, saddle-bags still slung over their shoulders. “I’m sure we could just sleep in Aelius’ stall, he wouldn’t step on us.”

“I highly doubt she summoned us to Sunhame so that we could lurk in the stables the entire time,” Kir replied dryly, exchanging nods with a young acolyte passing them, “Though the idea is tempting. Hopefully the atmosphere will be a bit less stifling where we’re going.”

“And that is?”

“Son of Sun’s residence.”

As Kir had half-anticipated, the closer they drew to what was now Solaris’ residence, the less oppressive the very air seemed – indeed, there was an air of muted excitement about the place. People of various ranks walked about briskly, missions clear in their minds as they went about fulfilling their new Son of Sun’s will – he had been afraid of this.

They were able to make it into the residency itself before they were stopped, and even that was easily brushed aside with a wave of the scroll, the primary seal being the one personal to the Son of Sun. He would need to point out the weakness of that – what if he had simply saved an old one as he had his Seal of Sunhame document? True, anyone trying to sneak in to assassinate Solaris would have more than guards and a formidable mage in her own right to deal with, but it was still a threat.

Anur seemed to catch it too, if the grumbling under his breath about lacksadaisical security precautions and stupidly incautious rulers was any indication.

Kir exhaled slowly, slipping into mage-sight as they neared the rooms actually assigned to the Son of Sun – there was an entire palace that was technically hers now, but the rooms that were actually used were a bare half of the entire complex. He had no doubt a fair number of the more frivolous rooms and treasuries would be emptied and repurposed for a more practical or at least theological motive.

That was one thing the Son of Sun seal did have going for it – each Son of Sun had their personal magical signature embedded in the seal itself. How that worked when there was a Son of Sun that wasn’t a mage as well, Kir had no idea, he’d never been able to find an explanation in his rather half-hearted searches for that information. It wasn’t a particularly safe avenue of research, after all. One might worry he was getting ideas above his station.

But from an immediate practicality perspective, it meant that he could simply follow the thread trailing out from Solaris’ seal. Now that he was close, it was much easier to figure out a passable route taking him in the proper direction rather than hitting dead end after dead end.

Blinking a few times to clear his vision, he blinked a few more times to ensure he wasn’t hallucinating or still half-immersed in the aetheral planes. But no, the door her thread had led to really was that hideously gaudy. Were those gem-encrusted peacock feather motifs?

“My eyes,” Anur groaned, covering his eyes with his hand, “They burn!”

“I… am appalled,” Kir said, tilting his head and squinting, “I think those are _cherubs_ up near the top.”

“You’re still _looking_?” Anur asked incredulously.

Kir rolled his eyes and grabbed Anur’s arm, guiding the still self-blindfolded Herald to the doors and rapping on a rare flat area sharply before shoving the door open – it was heavy, but still swung smoothly. Good structural craftsmanship at least, even if whoever had approved the design for the decoration had to have been drinking.

“Where are your bodyguards?” Kir demanded, spotting Solaris at her desk and not another soul. He had been surprised by the lack of presence at her doors, but had supposed they were inside to ensure no one had come through the window or to serve as some sort of surprise force, but there wasn’t a trace of anyone, concealed under glamours or not.

The woman jumped slightly, twisting in her chair and blinking for a moment before smiling brilliantly, “Kir! And you must be Enforcer Anur Bellamy – are you all right?”

“Is it as bad in here as that door was?” Anur asked, peeking through his fingers and sighing in relief, lowering his hand at last, “Not so bad, thank goodness. Your Eminence,” he bowed deeply before starting to kneel, Kir quickly following his example only to stop when Solaris leapt to her feet, crying, “Don’t you dare! Either of you!”

Sweeping forward, she grabbed Kir’s hands in her own and said, “You will _not_ kneel to me, unless I am manifesting the Voice, I suppose. I am still your sister, brother, if you will have me.”

“Always,” Kir promised, catching the trace of worry in her tone. He wouldn’t doubt that she had already found those that used to speak familiarly with her were more distant, more cautious, now she had truly Ascended. Even those who had understood she’d been destined for greater things, that there was something Other about her, would still have been startled, especially if the stories of her Ascent were even close to accurate.

Dramatic would be an understatement, from what they’d heard.

“And as for you, Lieutenant-Enforcer,” she smiled, “I don’t know that you kneeling would set good precedent for future relations between our countries.”

“A valid point,” Anur chuckled, “Though we’ll have to come up with a different explanation than that, I presume? If the atmosphere outside is any indication, it will be some time before the Valdemar matter can even be considered.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Solaris grimaced, releasing Kir’s hands and leading them to seats by the hearth, the three settling around the not-quite-so-gaudy mantle and Kir quickly setting the waiting logs alight to ward off the faint bite in the air. It also simply served as a comfort, to have flames nearby.

“I haven’t been able to leave my residency more than twice in the last weeks,” she sighed heavily, “Karchanek and Ulrich have been indispensable, but trying to get the most immediate of the reforms through has been a mess, not to mention the fact there were quite a few who didn’t see the Ascencion Miracle and are causing further difficulties. Until those matters are at least somewhat resolved, the head of my guard has decided it would be best if I remained here and started issuing decrees without excessive risk and really with the amount of paperwork I’ve had to disperse these past weeks even without that I wouldn’t have been able to leave more frequently.”

“Yet Anur and I weren’t stopped more than once and all I had to do was flash your personal seal – there is no difference between yours and Lastern's except for a mage, which the servant who asked me most certainly was not. Any assassin would have to get through more than just your non-existant guardsmen, but the matter remains.”

“They’re not at the door?” Solaris blinked, surprised, “I had thought – oh, blast.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, “All those years building support and _still_ there are so many troubles.”

“You’re still alive,” Anur pointed out pragmatically, “I think a lot of those years went into that fact alone.”

“Outside of the area just around your residency, the fear is thick enough you can almost taste it,” Kir said bluntly. “It’s barely before noon and there is hardly a soul wandering the gardens.”

“Noon?” Solaris blinked, glancing over her shoulder at the water-clock before jumping to her feet in alarm, “Noon! I was planning to conduct the noon service today! Blast it Karchanek must be covering for me – “

“Well it’s too late now,” Anur said dryly, “Calm down, Your Eminence. Sit back down and relax. You’ve clearly been working yourself too hard if you’ve been losing hours like that.”

“First, I insist you call me Solaris,” she said sternly, “Second, of course I’ve been working hard! I have to! This has been years in the making, I can’t just rest on my laurels now, the work has barely begun! And now I’ve gone and forgotten an obligation to conduct a _service_ honestly – “

“Work that won’t get done at all if you make yourself sick,” Kir interrupted, raising an eyebrow, “And besides that, who exactly knew you were planning to conduct the noon service today? Was it some sort of scheduled thing?”

“Well – no, I simply want to conduct one service a day,” Solaris finally sat down again, “I’ve done morning services the past few days so I thought I’d switch things up a bit. Karchanek knew, my guards knew… and whoever they told.”

“But it’s all rumor outside those few, rumor that can easily be brushed off as a mistake,” Kir shook his head, “You spent these past years dealing with political machinations and you’re so easily flustered? It’s simple, you can even make the Sun Descending service tonight so your pattern of one service a day isn’t broken. As for those you told – apologize for losing track of time while you meditated on the problem of those who didn’t witness the Ascending Miracle.”

“But I have – oh for goodness sake, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that,” Solaris pinched the bridge of her nose, “I really must be tired or _something_ if that didn’t even occur to me. Well – while we’re on that matter, I don’t suppose you have any suggestions?”

“What about Hansa?” Anur asked, Kir nodding at him and saying, “A good suggestion.”

Solaris looked between the two of them dubiously, “Who exactly is Hansa? Historically he is a Son of Sun from near a millennia ago – “

“A Firecat,” Kir returned her surprised look, “The Firecat that delivered my summons and spoke to the 62nd, as a matter of fact. He spoke of seeing us in Sunhame, so I had assumed he was here with you.”

“No, I have never met a Firecat, much less a specific one,” Solaris shook her head, “One hasn’t been necessary as of yet.”

“With what you’ve been saying about doubters? You may want to reconsider that,” Anur pointed out, “Can’t hurt to meditate on the problem and ask. In the meantime, we’ll… find some food.”

“Excellent idea,” Kir agreed, rising to his feet, “We have travel rations in our packs if you’re truly desperate, but why suffer through those rations if you don’t have to? I think I still remember how to reach the kitchens.”

“Think they’ll have spice-cake?” Anur asked as they headed out the door.

Kir sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the thing with Rodri was believable, little worried about it, hope I set it up all right. Thanks for reading!


	3. Heirs of Ari

To exactly no one’s surprise, when they returned to Solaris’ office, there was a familiar Cat waiting with her. _:Hello brother,:_ Hansa said warmly, _:And well met, cousin.:_

 _:I’d prefer if you directed all such comments to me, and I relay them to Kir, thank you,:_ Anur said, words polite, tone distinctly frigid.

_:Herald - :_

_:No Kir, you don’t like Mindspeech, even when I do it, and I said I’d try to keep others from forcing their mental voices on you. This is me keeping my word.:_

“Thank you,” Kir murmured, Hansa inclining his head, still managing to look remarkably regal from where he was sprawled across Solaris’ lap with her hands tangled in his fur. “He agrees,” Anur relayed aloud, Solaris watching Kir with some sympathy as they set their finds on the low table between their chairs before sitting down.

“It is an extremely odd sensation,” she said, “The… mindspeech, Hansa says you call it?”

“That would be the direct translation, yes,” Anur agreed, calm tone entirely at odds with the uninhibited glee that was fairly radiating off him from the moment he’d found a stash of nearly a week old (and therefore, unacceptable to sophisticated palates) spice-cake. It was all Kir had been able to do to keep him from carrying nothing but armfuls of the dessert back. At least he would always be easy to find a gift for.

“That – is an excellent amount of spice-cake,” Solaris smiled, “How did you know it was my favorite?”

“I didn’t – it’s my favorite!” Anur beamed, apparently delighted at finding someone else who appreciated the traditional dessert as much as he did, “But I’ll split my bounty with you. And Kir gets a piece or two, even if he doesn’t appreciate it as much as he should.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Kir groaned, burying his face in his hands as Solaris and Anur started bickering on whether or not thickness should be taken into account when it came to calculating an even split on spice-cake portions.

The matter was finally resolved (answer, yes) and Solaris had taken her first piece of spice cake and fruit before she asked, “Where did you find this much spice-cake, by the by? It’s not exactly typical fare in the District, unfortunately.”

“You’ll have to change that now that you’re Son of Sun,” Anur informed her solemnly before shrugging and swooping in for another piece. Kir was content with his cold meat slices and cheese – he’d have his “paltry share” of spice-cake later. “As for where – the kitchens. It was set aside to be disposed of, probably sent to charities or something, at least I hope so, because it was a few days old or something ridiculous. Spice-cake keeps well though, no idea why they’d get rid of it.”

“I think it was left over from the Midwinter’s Day celebrations,” Kir said, “They last a few days past Midwinter itself here, but I would bet they weren’t as jovial or universal as usual this year.”

“Yeah, watching the former Son of Sun get set on fire could probably do that,” Anur snorted, pouring himself some water.

“Lastern wasn’t set on fire,” Solaris said, looking at them in bemusement, “Is that what they’re saying?”

“Who knows what they’re saying,” Kir sighed, “The rumors were ridiculous. No fire then? That’s somewhat disappointing, what happened to him?”

“He was struck by lightning and turned to ash at the moment of the lighting.”

Kir and Anur stared at her and a particularly smug looking Hansa for a few shocked moments before Kir managed, “I don’t think that’s any better.”

“And then the Sunlord possessed His Image and rose from His Throne to honor me with His Crown, resized to fit my head as it was lowered,” now he knew Solaris was enjoying the piecemeal revelations, her last bite of spice-cake doing nothing to hide her mirthful expression.

“…that’s a statue, I’m guessing?” Anur muttered sidelong.

“A very large statue,” Kir replied faintly, mentally thanking the Sunlord that nothing so dramatic had happened while he was around. Building up a tolerance of sort for miraculous occurences or not, his first instinct would still have been to run away as fast as possible.

“And I suppose the lightning struck at the exact moment of igniting and from a cloudless sky?” Anur asked a few moments later, voice dry as he had apparently recovered and returned the majority of his attention to food besides spice-cake, at last.

“Of course it was cloudless,” Kir snorted before Solaris could reply, “First, if He were to go to the effort to turn someone to ash with lightning, why not go the extra _mel_ and have the sky cloudless? Secondly, it was Midwinter’s Day.”

Anur paused, swallowed his mouthful of cheese, before saying, “Wait – are you implying that it’s _always sunny_ on Midwinter?”

“Of course it is, the ignition happens when the first beam of high-noon sun hits the doused Eternal Flame through the oculus – how would there be a beam of high-noon sun if it was cloudy?”

“Are you – is he serious? Has there never been a cloudy Midwinter?” Anur demanded, turning to Solaris. She was no help to him, she looked as bemused as Kir felt, replying, “Well – I suppose there were cloudy mornings or afternoons, but during high-noon? No, it’s never been cloudy in my recollection, or in the records I’ve read – it would be an extremely bad omen. I would have to look into the interpretations but I’m fairly certain that would mean Vkandis Sunlord has abandoned Karse, for her people are no longer His.”

“Do you have cloudy Midwinters in Valdemar?” Kir asked, finally making the connection Anur’s reaction implied and feeling utterly shocked, “That _happens_?”

“I can’t say every Midwinter, but a fair number of them, yeah,” Anur said, Solaris and Kir exchanging shocked looks before Kir voiced what they’d probably both been thinking, “Your country is utterly bizarre.”

“Oh no! That does _not_ make Valdemar bizarre, that makes _you_ weird – I can pretty much guarantee that the vast majority of countries, if not _all_ countries besides Karse don’t have that happen. At least not as a _nationwide_ phenomena,” Anur must have caught their doubtful looks and got a mulish expression on his face, “I will prove it, I will so prove it one of these days. In this? You Karsites are the bizarre ones.”

“Good luck with that,” Kir shook his head, feeling decidedly off-balance with that revelation. If the Midwinter’s Sun wasn’t guaranteed in other nations, what did that mean for Karse? At the very least, it was reassuring, that at no point in their long descent had they truly _abandoned_ the Sunlord’s Way as a whole, but on another it was a little unnerving.

The idea of a _cloud-covered_ Midwinter was actually mildly terrifying – he’d have to make sure to never be in Valdemar for the day itself, or any nation besides Karse if Anur turned out to be right.

“Well, speaking of Midwinter,” Solaris almost visibly brushed aside their previous discussion, asking instead, “What was your Midwinter’s ceremony? You mentioned Hansa arrived, he says he’s the reason my summons to you disappeared off my desk? I assumed it had been sent out but hadn’t expected it to have arrived that day!”

“Actually, with that, it seems a reasonable time to present this,” Kir pulled the carefully scribed reply to Solaris’ summons out of a messenger tube they’d stuffed in his packs. This was the final of at least four drafts Greich had run through in the days immediately following Midwinter, and every literate member of the unit that stood still long enough had been forced to read over the document during one of its revisions.

Solaris took it curiously, cracking the seal and unrolling it – Kir didn’t quite hold his breath, but both he and Anur had set their food and drink aside to watch her reaction. She was impressively impassive, and even when she looked up from the document to speak her tone revealed nothing, “I assume then, that you agree with the main thrust of this message? That you would prefer not to be reassigned permanently to Sunhame?”

“I would much rather have never had to set foot in this city again,” Kir said with a painful sort of honesty, knuckles white on the arms of his chair, “But I know that is impossible, so having – retaining my post in the 62nd would be – it would be appreciated.”

Solaris tilted her head slightly and Anur murmured, “Hansa is asking if it would even be possible for you to lead the Firestarter Order from a border posting.”

“I think it would be more than possible, even desirable, considering how the Firestarting Order must be restructured,” Kir replied, directing his gaze to Hansa, “As it is not going to be disbanded, it would be best if the true target of the Firestarting Order could be presented relatively quickly, so people are not left wondering if the reclassification of a witch is a lie or at the least a temporary measure. With Ancar supplying blood-mages – while he hasn’t attacked Karse full on yet, it is only a matter of time – having Firestarters assigned to the border would reassure people that Firestarters truly _aren’t_ going to be used as internal policing forces. Not to the extent we were.”

“Besides that, I am not sure how combat-ready the other Firestarters are. Also, from the perspective of being accepted _by the Order_ as a leader – I have not dealt with a single one of them in over ten years, expecting them to follow my orders and direction without leading the way? Disastrous.”

“And if you were stationed here, you’d be miserable,” Anur said bluntly, turning to Solaris and continuing, “So I’m sorry, but if you can’t come up with some other option than permanently assigning Kir to Sunhame? You might as well write me out of any plans you have, because I can’t support a regime that asked my brother to sacrifice one hell of a lot in peace of mind and otherwise only to make him miserable. And I’ll knock him out and drag him away too, so you’ll lose us both and pretty quick.”

“Anur - !” Kir hissed, eyes widening in alarm as he kept talking and wanting nothing more than to grab him and flee because speaking that frankly _could not_ end well –

“Kir,” Solaris said quietly, drawing him out of his plotting of escape routes with a hand on his knee, “Calm down. Anur speaks nothing less than the truth and I will never be angry for that. Frustrated, maybe, but never angry. And he is speaking the truth, isn’t he? You would be miserable, were I to take you from the 62nd.”

“I would be… upset, if you removed me from the 62nd entirely,” Kir corrected carefully, trying to clamp down on his immediate panic. He knew Solaris, maybe not as well as some of her other advisors, but thanks to years of letters and veiled exchanges, _he knew her_. She would not immolate them for questioning her non-Divine edicts, she would welcome helpful advice and criticism but it was one thing to know that and another to _know_ that, when she sat there with the ancient and elaborate Sun Disk exclusive to the Son of Sun about her neck and a Firecat ( _a Firecat!_ ) on her lap.

He suddenly felt much more empathy for all those who shied from his robes.

“I would not be _miserable_ unless I were permanently stationed in Sunhame, or in any major temple,” Kir continued, “I do not – I do not like cities. I do not care for large congregations – I like ministering to a community where I know each and every one of them. I _enjoy_ being useful, working with my flames in new and odd ways – and I truly believe that for a long while, the only place I can have both is in the Sunsguard as a chaplain, and as I am already in the 62nd and have a very good relationship with them, why change a good thing?”

“Why change a good thing indeed,” Solaris smiled, sitting back in her chair, “Thank you, _both_ of you, for your honesty. And I will write a letter to the same effect to your 62nd, I get the feeling that if anyone were to try and take you from them against your will they’d have quite the fight on their hands.”

“On multiple fronts,” Anur murmured, clarifying with, “Hansa.”

“Well I, at least, appreciate the warning, and can greatly appreciate the mutual affection and respect this indicates,” Solaris chuckled, continuing, “I was planning to do a massive reassignment effort, and only leave priests where they were if literally every adult in their congregation requested they stay. I must say I anticipated most of those being small village and pastoral priests, not chaplains! Maybe I’ll have to reassess my plans!”

“What are your plans regarding the Sunsguard?” Kir asked, finally reaching for some fruit again and relaxing, “While there isn’t as much corruption as in the priesthood itself, there is still a significant amount from what I’ve heard.”

“I would appreciate your insights on it,” Solaris nodded, selecting another piece of spice-cake before saying, “I plan to basically disband all those units I cannot trust on a temporary basis and make it permanent on a case-by-case basis at the unit level and then deal with individual problems. I hope that we can simply select decent officers and leave them to restock their unit’s rosters appropriately.”

“And what will you do with disgruntled men who’ve been discharged permanently, with weapons training and bitterness alike?” Kir raised an eyebrow, surprised at the scope of her plan for the Sunsguard but understanding how it was probably necessary. He had received a disheartening number of reports of corruption from the mild to the obscene from the 62nd’s former members, and a lot of it hadn’t been something he could really do anything about at the time.

“Those units that remain – of which there are a decent amount – will work as internal policing. I also think arming the populace should keep things calmer – at the least it will make them feel more confident, even if they don’t necessarily know what they’re doing,” Solaris shrugged, and Kir honestly smiled at that, “Perfect!” he agreed, “That will serve quite a few purposes for reassurance.”

“Exactly my hope,” Solaris smiled, Anur bringing the mood down a bit when he asked, “And Ancar? Bandits and pirates and the like? The Sunsguard is stretched thin as-is, cutting the numbers even only by a few units – when it sounds more like it’ll be at least halved – is going to lead to serious shortages and problems, especially if the permanently discharged start acting up.”

“That, I don’t have a solution to,” Solaris grimaced, a blank moment passing before a thoughtful expression crossed her face, “That could work… Hansa just suggested guild mercenaries.”

“That is going to be extremely expensive,” Kir said immediately, “Given how poorly they’ve been dealt with in the past? There will have to be a massive up-front payment offered to tempt any of the guild compliant sort back into Karse. And extremely tightly worded contracts, with massive penalties as extra reassurance.”

“And it’s going to have to be sold to Karsites carefully,” Anur added, nodding towards Kir as he continued, “Kir says the Tedrel Wars had a major impact on Karse and the Sunsguard’s trust of Sunhame – I wouldn’t doubt the scars from the Wars mean people will be leery of mercenaries too, guilded or not. Valdemar hiring the Skybolts was more because Eldan personally vouched for their Captain than actually trusting Guild mercenaries and for us the last mercenaries we dealt with were expected enemies, not supposed allies.”

“Arming the populace should help, but he’s right, it’s going to have to be explained carefully,” Kir agreed.

“As for the expense,” Anur said wryly, “Might I suggest stripping down that horrific door as a starting point?”

“It will be one of the first things to go,” she promised.

***===***pagebreak***===***

This visit was going much better than Anur had anticipated. Angry crowd insulting Rodri aside, entering Sunhame had been simple enough and finding Solaris had been alarmingly so. Given the Sunlord’s ability to literally strike people down with _lightning,_ he doubted anyone who attacked her would make it very far, but there was no reason to be incautious.

Especially since she was the first person he’d met who seemed to like spice-cake as much as he did. That sort of taste had to be preserved.

Now, they had left Solaris to start blitzing her way through paperwork regarding the Sunsguard plan with Hansa now keeping a watchful eye on her. Her guards had arrived at last, and hopefully they understood the magnitude of their error by the stern looks Kir and Anur had both given them. If they didn’t, an actual lecture would be forthcoming, and if Kir wouldn’t do it, he’d take full advantage of his odd position in the Sunsguard hierarchy and deliver it himself.

His already odd half-removed-upward position in the rank flowcharts Devek had forced him to memorize had recently been given an immense boost after all. While only First Order Firestarters could be Head of the Order, not every First Order Firestarter was the Head.

Kir, Anur knew, was not particularly thrilled with the entirely anticipated promotion, though occasional glances at his friend’s expression gave nothing away. His features could have been carved from granite for all the emotion he was showing. It gave him a somewhat alarming resemblance to Weaponsmaster Alberich, actually – one problem with Karsites all fitting a particular type as far as appearances went, he supposed. But that very forbidding expression gave away enough, there was none of his usual exasperation at the world, distant worry over whatever was keeping him up at night that particular day or even bemusement at whatever bizarre situation they’d found themselves in _this_ time.

All micro-expressions with him, really, but thanks to the bizarre hunt of the Nameless and his increased if only occasional contact with Kir mind-to-mind, he’d found that it was a relatively simple matter to focus and get at least a general sense of what Kir was feeling. A bizarre sort of bond, especially since he was fairly certain it wasn’t just one-way. Now that they were in Sunhame, he was hoping he could get access to those records Kir had found the hunting rite in, maybe that would have something in it about joint Voice manifestations or whatever it was that had happened to them.

If he couldn’t find anything, he could always see if Firecat Hansa had any ideas…

“So, the Firestarters have basically entered self-imposed lockdown?” Anur reiterated, raising an eyebrow and hoping Kir might elaborate on what they were going to be walking into. “Supports your theory of terrified panic, at least.”

“Unfortunately,” Kir grimaced, “Solaris made the announcement regarding the false definition of witch-powers and the true innocence of those that were hunted for centuries almost immediately, and the news spread incredibly fast. Helped along, of course, by the fact very few actually _want_ those practices to continue.”

“Hence, the whole issue with Rodri earlier.”

“Precisely, though I think that was exacerbated by a recent burning in the area – and the fact Rodri has been going through there for some time, so they knew he wasn’t a threat himself.”

“Which is messed up.”

“Of course it is, but they were angry,” Kir’s expression soured briefly before returning to stony blankness, “People are remarkably stupid when they’re angry, especially when in a group.”

“Had to deal with a few mobs in the cities,” Anur agreed, by now well-practiced at mentioning his experiences as a Herald without mentioning anything specific to Valdemar itself, “They were pretty ugly, and very quick to turn uglier. So their terrified panic isn’t entirely unjustified, we expected it.”

“They have also recently been told that they’ve spent their entire adult lives burning innocent children alive,” Kir said, tone weary even though his face gave nothing away, “I wouldn’t doubt they’re guilt-stricken, and wouldn’t be surprised at all if a few of them are suicidal.”

_:Kir…:_

_:It’s occurred to me before,:_ Kir replied shortly, no longer having any visceral flinch of horror at the switch of mediums, though his knuckles went briefly white, _:But I had the luck to be somewhere I avoided burning innocents for years, did duties true to the priesthood’s purpose rather than our corrupted mess of policy and practice. It has been a very long time since I’ve seriously considered it as anything other than a contingency plan.:_

_:...All right. I’ll let that lie then.:_

_:Thank you.:_ “Now, stay close to me, when Firestarters argue, things have a tendency to burst into flame,” Kir warned aloud as they rounded what would be a lovely hedge when it wasn’t the dead of winter and found themselves facing a remarkably plain structure compared to the elaborate coiffing on every other priesthood-associated building in the District. It was still beautiful, but full of patterned wood-and-stone and an attention to architecture that some of the others passed over in favor of tons of gilt and gold.

“Lot less shiny than the others,” Anur tilted his head to one side as he examined what he supposed was the Firestarter Hall Kir had said they were heading for. “I like it.”

“Glad you approve,” Kir replied dryly, some of his tension easing, a small smile twitching at his lips before it vanished to his stony façade again – Anur would take what he could get. “It’s one of the oldest buildings in the District, much of the mage-work that went into crafting a Hall that could withstand Firestarter arguments and debates has been lost to the ages.”

“Your arguments are that explosive?” Anur raised an eyebrow, “That’s… surprising, really. You have a temper, yes, but you don’t set things on fire unless you mean to.”

“That is precisely because it is so easy for me to set things on fire,” Kir replied crisply, “Control, and _strict_ control, was a vital necessity for me. For those of less power, it is not quite so vital, which can lead to problems when they’re running on terror and anger and not much else. Also, as soon as one person pulls a blade in a fist-fight – “

“Everyone grabs the nearest one and sticks it in the other guy,” Anur finished with a sigh, eyeing the doors that were fast approaching, “Makes sense. You go first.”

Kir actually rolled his eyes at that, pushing one of the oversized wooden doors open and promptly side-stepping.

A chair leg, which was, naturally, on fire, flew past them and skidded across the paving stones before coming to a halt against a stone bench.

“Well, that was a bit of a warmer welcome than I anticipated,” Anur said finally, peering around the edge of the door to look in at the source of the flaming chair leg.

Kir chuckled softly, actually stepping into the sun and flame-lit room, saying, “Hail, brethren.”

“We have not yet come to a decision,” a middle-aged Firestarter said stiffly, apparently not recognizing Kir as one of their own, “Kindly leave us until the Firestarters Conclave has conclude – “

“Enough,” the woman sitting at the far end of the room interrupted him, raising her formerly bowed head and rising to her feet. “There is no Conclave. There is simply the mindless bickering of terrified wretches who don’t dare honestly _think_ about what has happened, what has been revealed to us.”

 _:That seems a little harsh,:_ Anur murmured to Aelius, the Companion replying promptly, _:Hush, I want to hear all of this.:_

“Eldest Brother,” she continued, brown eyes locked on Kir with that same blankly forbidding expression Kir had crafted onto his own face, stepping off the slight dias her chair was on and beginning to walk towards them, “Is it true? What has been said? Have they really – were the witches of – ” her breath hitched and she stopped walking halfway across the room, raising a hand to her mouth as her composure wavered, “Have the witches I’ve burned been nothing but children?”

“Yes.”

_:That seems a little harsh too…:_

_:Hush, Chosen!:_

The woman, who by now he was certain was Jaina, the current-yet-former Head of the Firestarting Order, entirely lost her composure at this point, dropping to her knees with a crack that made Anur wince and a sob that finally seemed to jar Kir into action.

In four quick strides he was kneeling at her side, wrapping his arms around her and letting her cry into his shoulder, shaking. Anur looked around at the other Firestarters – nine of them, with Rodri nowhere to be found, thankfully. He wasn’t entirely sure how this initiate inducted as a Firestarter business worked – Rodri had only been in Sunhame two years at the most, there was no way he could actually be an acolyte yet –

 _:Chosen, focus,:_ Aelius’ voice had a weary tone he hated, _:These people are breaking.:_

 _:Not yet they’re not,:_ Anur replied, examining the nine Firestarters, from late teens to forties – one distinguished man might even break fifty – and noting the ones that looked the least shaken. They were the ones he’d want to keep an eye on, really. The ones that were reacting were at least _reacting_ , not unfeeling with shock or denial or, worse, entirely uncaring.

“Right then,” he said aloud, everyone at least tilting their heads towards him and he clapped his hands together, rubbing them briskly as he looked around, “First order of business – are those chairs supposed to be on fire?”

“…No.”

“Thought so, now – when was the last time you all ate?”

He may not know what to do with people who’d just been told that the reason people shied away from them, flinched when they walked by, hid the pregnant women and children away if they passed through town was nothing, was _true_. That they really _were_ the monsters everyone saw them as, because the targets weren’t justified at all, were just innocent children. Or, well, not children, Alberich, but innocent – of being burn worthy because Alberich and innocence just didn’t compute well in his head –

_:Chosen.:_

Aelius no longer sounded weary, he sounded amused, maybe even a little fond – so Anur counted it as a win. Because if he couldn’t piece them back together, had no idea where even to begin, he could at least distract them and make sure they held it together long enough for someone to figure out just what could even possibly fix this situation.

As long as it didn’t take longer than a week. After that, he was out of ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay - epic length A/N and service announcement here:
> 
> First - hope this chapter worked for you. Got pointed out Solaris last chapter was a little off-key for some people and me too but I struggle with her, hopefully this struck the right balance of human-yet-AWEsome let me know and I'll try to get better with her voice. I struggle with her, any tips/tricks/ideas are appreciated even if they may go unused. More Firestarter trauma/drama etc. to come, it is the focus of the fic after all (*cough* title *cough*)
> 
> Now, FOR ALL THOSE WHO KNOW HOW TALIA GOT ORDAINED - YOU'RE DONE, NO NEED TO KEEP READING, THANKS!
> 
> On multiple sites I've gotten a surprising amount of communication regarding Talia's ordination - requests for how it should happen, questions as to what I'm going to do with the ceremony, is it going to be a ceremonial or practical posting etc. etc.
> 
> This has led me to realize a surprising amount of people have not in fact read the novella by Mercedes Lackey (ML herself, yes) called "Sun in Glory" published in the anthology of the same name a fair number of years ago. This novella details Talia's ordination. I have an entire sub-plot/storyline/it's gonna be EPIC planned AROUND THIS NOVELLA. I will not be covering the details of the novella content, just using it as a structure. Will it still make sense without reading the novella? Yes, it should, because the boys have to understand what's going on too. Will it probably be a much richer experience if you read the novella? Yeah, probably. Also, I really liked it and think it's good and Alberich is the MC - how can Alberich being an MC go wrong, seriously? (Don't tell me, just... don't).
> 
> Anyway, with any and all questions regarding Talia's ordination - read Sun in Glory by ML or wait patiently, but just be aware that the ordination itself is already canonized and I'm not messing with it.
> 
> Thanks readers, you all rock!


	4. Investments

Kir just let Jaina cry into his shoulder, looking over her head to examine the Firestarter’s Hall. He hadn’t been here in years, and in the years he’d been gone he’d hardly given the place a first thought, much less a second one. But he’d never forgotten it, not really. After being taken from his family, it was the first place he’d felt somewhat at home.

The main Hall had vaulted ceilings and the western wall had a massive stained-glass window depicting the Sun Disk in all the shades of flame – thick-paned skylights let in more light without being too vulnerable to weather. Below the stained-glass window, the wall was plain paneled wood with doors to the central courtyard in the middle. He couldn’t see those from his current angle though, it was blocked by the seat of the Incendiary, Head of the Order, where Jaina had been residing a few minutes ago.

The tables and chairs formed a false-corridor approaching the Incendiary and were seldom used outside of a true Conclave; for that matter, from what he recalled the Incendiary was hardly ever actually sitting in that chair – it wasn’t like people often approached the Firestarting Order with petitions or problems. Not any longer, anyways.

“…First order of business – are those chairs supposed to be on fire?”

Kir shook his head, smiling and heard Jaina laugh quietly, pulling away from him and wiping her face with her sleeve, a much more brilliant crimson than his faded robes. “That would be your Enforcer then?” she asked quietly, and Kir nodded, “Anur Bellamy, Lieutenant-Enforcer,” he murmured, unable and unwilling to keep the fondness from his voice.

“Thought so, now - when was the last time you all ate?”

“And resident mother-hen,” he added, chuckling and rising to his feet, offering Jaina a hand and helping her up before turning to Anur and saying, “Not every problem in the world can be solved by adding spice-cake, Anur.”

“But the situation can at least be made more pleasant,” Anur replied loftily, “Though depending on the answer, spice-cake wouldn’t be the best because it’s not exactly nutritious. Or something to eat if you’ve been living of tea and bread for the past two weeks.”

“The Conclave was initiated three days ago,” the only other Firestarter to have spoken said. Kir recognized him of course, Colbern, a Second Order Firestarter who was the second oldest of their entire Order and fond of the more militaristic aspects of their traditions. If he wasn’t mistaken, the man was the only other Firestarter in recent history to have been sent out as a chaplain, decades ago, well before even the Tedrel Wars, and he’d volunteered for the job.

“In response to Her Eminence’s announcement regarding modern witches,” Jaina continued, sounding exhausted, “She made the announcement after the Sun Ascending service, so word spread very quickly. We – hadn’t been notified in advance and it was – is – it’s a shock, and we didn’t respond very coherently.”

Kir felt a sharp spike of anger, of indignation, and only half of it was his own. Shooting a look Anur’s way, the Herald-Enforcer’s blank expression gave everything away – he never had a blank expression except when he thought showing his emotions might worry people.

He’d never had the heart to tell him that the blank expression was probably more unnerving to observers than actually showing his anger or frustration, particularly if they were familiar with his usually highly mobile features.

But blast it all, Solaris should have given them _some_ forewarning, even just pulled Jaina aside before the service, as she had clearly attended. A letter, a brief notice that something regarding the Firestarting Order would be announced after the service, _anything_ would have been better than simply decrying their Order’s actions for the past centuries in front of the people they’d policed for witchcraft and pulled victims from in the first place.

“Well then, where in this place can we find food? And chairs that aren’t on fire? If you’ve been arguing in here for three days with only occasional sustentence, you’re going to be falling over soon,” Anur said, Colbern again the one who responded, saying tiredly, “Basic kitchen is this way,” turning on his heel and leading the way to the back of the room, the other Firestarters following him to what Kir remembered as an extremely basic kitchen and dining area that also overlooked the central courtyard, using mixed clear and stained glass windows to provide lighting and a view.

_:Kir, this is going to be bad – I can’t believe she didn’t give any warning about it!:_

_:It’s not something that would really be considered,:_ Kir replied, waving for Jaina to precede him through the door, meeting Anur’s gaze and taking advantage of the momentary isolation to shrug helplessly, _:There’s only eleven of us. And that’s with a boy I’d bet was ordained a few moons ago, if that. The priesthood has hundreds of members across Karse, we’re not anything approaching a priority in that respect.:_

 _:Um, I’m sorry, did I just make up the fact that she’s counting on the Firestarters to form a line of defense against Hardorn while the Sunsguard is_ crippled _with housecleaning?:_

 _:While nothing like that was explicitly stated, it was implied,:_ Kir allowed, stepping through the door himself and Anur immediately headed for cupboards and the pantry to hunt for food. Their doors were shut with a bit more force than necessary when their contents didn’t satisfy him.

“Find the tea?” he asked, heading for where he knew the mugs were, right over the water-pump and sink, intentionally enough.

“I found a lot of tea, what kind are you after?” Anur replied, opening a cupboard again and eyeing it.

“Eh – cheapest blend,” Kir shrugged, looking over his shoulder at the Firestarters sitting around one of the long tables. All of them looked exhausted and dazed, they probably wouldn’t even notice the taste so might as well not waste the better quality stuff.

“How am I supposed to know what’s cheapest?” Anur griped, digging through the cupboard, presumably filled with boxes of tea from the sounds, “It’s not like these things are labeled with prices!”

“Then the easiest to grab, since initiates will get that first,” Kir snorted, Anur immediately grabbing a light-colored wooden box and sliding it over at him, shutting the tea cupboard and pulling out knives to slice the loaf of hard bread and the cheeses he’d found. Kir opened it and he raised an eyebrow, “Your cheapest tea has citrus?” he asked over his shoulder, Anur making a choking sound. Lemons and bitter oranges did grow in Karse, rather well in the southern reaches actually so it wasn’t as prohibitively expensive as it apparently could be in Valdemar, but for that to be the first tea within reach rather than some basic peppermint blend?

“Yes?” Jaina replied questioningly, looking up from her hands to stare at Kir in bemusement, “Why does the price of our tea matter?”

“I am so raising my standards for the rest of our stay in Sunhame,” Anur mumbled, Kir snorting and nodding agreement, shutting the box and finishing up with filling the mugs. An idle wave of his hand set the water to near boiling and he quickly dropped a few pinches of the tea blend into each mug. By the time he finished passing the mugs of tea out to his fellows, Anur had slid a platter of bread, cheese and sliced apples onto the table before grabbing a few pieces of fruit for himself and dropping onto the bench next to Kir.

“You didn’t use a kettle,” the oldest of the Firestarters, Seras if Kir remembered right, said, staring at his steaming mug of tea, “Did you just – did you just heat up the water? In each mug?”

“…Yes,” Kir bit out, uncomfortable with the idea of giving away any his abilities in this sort of setting but knowing it was necessary. For one, if Solaris really was going to depend on Firestarters to help make up for the deficit of Sunsguard at the Hardornen border, the old ritual methods weren’t going to suffice. For another, he hadn’t been anywhere near another Firestarter in over a decade. If he was going to become head of the Order in more than just name, he needed to prove himself capable; if not with politics, with flames.

“Are you all going to drink it, or just stare at it, because if you won’t, I definitely will, this is good!” Anur said, Kir chuckling as that statement did exactly what Anur meant it too, most of the Firestarters finally taking a sip of their tea.

“Eat something too,” Kir prompted, couldn’t have Anur the only one shoving food down their throats after all, “If you’ve all been in Conclave for three days, I doubt you’ve actually been feeding yourselves adequately.”

“We managed not to keel over,” Jaina said dryly, sitting on Kir’s other side, “But that is all I can claim.”

“Was anything decided then?” Kir asked, allowing everyone a few moments to at least drag some food towards them, if not actually start eating.

“The Conclave was called so we’d have an excuse to keep people out more than anything,” the only other female Firestarter (Lumira, perhaps?) said, propping her chin on her hand and clearly exhausted, “We’ve just been – it’s been – “

“We’ve been trying to distract ourselves from the fact that we’ve spent the entirety of our adult lives burning innocents alive,” Seras said, gaze haunted as he looked up from his mug, shoudlers slumping as he continued, “I – the records they – Sunlord what have we _done_.”

“Our job!” a Firestarter ordained in the middle of Kir’s own acolyte years snarled, stocky man hitting the table with his fist and growling wordlessly as his knuckles went white, “We did our _job_ we thought we were – _everyone thought we were doing the right thing!_ And now they’re going to blame _us_ for it, as if it was _just us_ that did these things when _everyone_ did it and Her Bloody Eminence didn’t help matters announcing that _we were in the wrong_ and not even _mentioning_ the fucking demon-summonings, or the fact that ‘witches are not defined properly’, but just saying that the _Firestarter Tradition_ had been warped, what like it was _our fault - !_ ”

“Kir! Calm down!” Anur barked sharply, “And you too, other Firestarter!”

Kir exhaled slowly and unclenched his fists, letting the heat he’d been letting flare around him disperse and then pulling the heat out of his now literally boiling tea. The former had become a habit much less destructive than flaring flames, simply expelling heat as if he himself were a flame, but was still noticeable and made it easier for things to ignite in his vicinity. Not something he needed when surrounded by others who set things alight when stressed.

“I will have to speak with her regarding future announcement styles,” Kir said, consciously letting that flare of anger go. He would have to speak with her about it, maybe even get Solaris to issue an apology, if he could talk her around to that, but he couldn’t be truly angry – he understood the sheer magnitude of the issues she was facing after all, and to be perfectly honest, an Order that amounted to not even a handful of her entire priesthood could hardly be a priority. “That is Kavrick, Anur, Firestarter of the Second Order, last I heard. Which was some years ago, admittedly.”

“Still Second Order, Eldest,” the indicated Kavrick nodded shortly, “Apologies for my outburst. It is simply… frustrating. To think of what we will be facing when we finally get the nerve up to leave this makeshift sanctuary.”

“And worrying,” Jaina continued tiredly, “Even with rumors of blood-magic – unconfirmed though they are – the entirety of our Order’s duties have just been… brushed aside. With everything in flux at the moment it isn’t so bad, but we’ve been losing power for some time. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to sustain ourselves as an Order after this.”

“Consider the rumors of blood-magic confirmed,” Kir said, a wry smile crossing his face, “Who do you think kept sending reports in to start the rumors?”

“You’re the one that met Fredric?” Kavrick raised an eyebrow, “I have to thank you then, I hadn’t spoken to him in some time when he came up asking about _lothga_ and blood-mages. It was nice to catch up.”

“They’re in Hardorn then? Ancar’s employing them?” Jaina asked, eyes reddened by tears narrowing nonetheless, “Have they been set against us, or are they targeted at the White Demons alone?”

“Ancar is one, from what we’ve heard,” Kir nodded towards Anur, who was looking around the room curiously, mug clutched between both hands the only possible sign of unease. If it weren’t for the humming tension Kir could feel in the back of his mind, in that odd half-removed corner he’d learned to designate _Anur_ , he’d probably have missed it entirely. “And he employs his kin in the art. No blood-mage bound troops have been sent deliberately against Karse, but there has been detritus and raids – mercenaries hired by him too. But for blood-magic, it has been the incidentals that have caused problems – poisoned water ways, _lothga_ and the like. Haunts, too.”

“But we’re not going to be sent in against them, not if they’re not actively engaging in war with us,” he was nearly certain her name was Lumira, and she had leaned forward slightly, straightening in her chair, “With their targets being the White Demons – so long as there is no active war perpetrated against us, it will remain incidentals. Is that enough to justify our Order’s continuation?”

“Our Order’s continuation is not in question,” Kir said shortly, “Our Order will remain because despite the recent declarations, there is still evil to burn. We predate the Son of Sun! We predate the theocracy! We will _not_ be extinguished by this change in regimes, because _I will not allow it to happen_!”

“And do you have the power to claim that?” Seras asked, voice equally biting, eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, “Eldest you may be, only other candidate for Head you may be, but you haven’t set foot in Sunhame for over a _decade_ , boy! What sort of power backs you to make that claim? This tea alone indicates you have a remarkable command of the flames, but with most of their fuel banned from use, those alone won’t sustain you! Much less against a divinely chosen Son of Sun!”

“Considering how many investigations I’ve conducted on her behalf in recent years, I damn well better have the sway to keep our Order alive,” Kir replied dryly, not letting himself rise to the bitterness in that tone. “Considering how badly she’s mismanaged the Firestarter situation already, she damn well better listen to me when it comes to our Order’s future.”

“You knew this was coming then,” Colbern said, eyes narrowing, “Did you know, then, about the innocents? About the crimes we were committing?”

Kir could feel his shoulders tense, his eyes tighten, and he said quietly, “I’ve known we were burning innocents for years. I… suspected since I was an initiate. The stories – Ari and the God King, Vanya Flamesinger, even Silas the Torch-Keeper – none of the supposed witches we burned seemed even remotely like the evils they faced, the wretches they burned. It didn’t fit, it didn’t make sense. By the time our acolyte years were over,” he nodded towards Jaina, who was the only member of his acolyte quartet still living, “I was certain that none of the supposed witches we burned were deserving of that condemnation. But what could I do? Mentioning it to anyone else would simply see me dead, I had no patience for the politics and strategies that might bring actual change in Sunhame, and too much power was wrought from the terror we brought people – the old regime would never have actually changed the definition of a witch, no matter how delicately I breached the issue.”

“And you didn’t see fit to tell any of your fellow Firestarters?” Seras demanded, Kir snorting at the question and replying, “Would anyone have believed me? There wasn’t any solid _proof_ , any holy declaration, just my own conscience, my own heart, telling me it was wrong, what we were doing. That these children weren’t evil incarnate. So I gave them what mercy I could, learned flames to the point that they’d be dead before any pain hit,” Kir shrugged, taking a gulp of tea, before confessing, “But even with that poor mercy I could offer, I sleep no easier for the fourteen dead children that coat my hands in ash.”

“Thirty-six,” Seras murmured, staring at his hands blankly, clearly seeing something that wasn’t quite there, “Thirty-six children, in my forty-odd years of service.”

“Twenty-three,” Colbern murmured, mug slamming onto the table, “Twenty-three, in thirty years.”

Similar recitations followed, anywhere from none – the most recently ordained, only a few moons of service as Kir had guessed – to Jaina’s twenty-eight in thirteen years. As the Head of the Order, she’d been responsible for all the burnings in Sunhame as well as the Temple itself, and given the reasoning behind picking a child for the priesthood, there were much higher chances of an initiate being burned than a random child picked off the streets.

“And your Enforcer?” Jaina prompted, looking around Kir at Anur, “Anur Bellamy, correct?”

“Indeed,” Anur flashed her a small smile before saying, “And the only burnings I’ve been involved in have been true witches out of Hardorn, that one _lothga_ situation and the Oathbreaker. So in that respect at least,” here his smile turned bitter as he repeated, “In that respect, at the least, I have no innocent blood on my hands.”

“You are very fortunate,” she said solemnly, lips tightening as she looked at her mug, hands shaking slightly before she tightened her grip.

“An Oathbreaker,” Lumira’s eyes narrowed, “That was – this past spring, wasn’t it? Out by the mountains? We heard rumors, but… the stories were rather outlandish.”

“Well, in retrospect,” another man, a relatively recent investiture with three years to his name, snorted, waving his hand in an all-encompasing sort of gesture, “Entirely reasonable. No lightning, after all.”

Everyone at least let their lips twitch at that while Kir actually chuckled, Anur giving an aggreived sigh and saying, “I’d been hopeful the stories would grow to lightning, that would have been _fantastic_!”

“I’m more interested in this _lothga_ story,” Kavrick admitted, leaning forward and looking down the table at them, “Fredric mentioned that new initiate, Rodri, was involved, but kept his name out of reports we kept throwing at the administration – boy didn’t need that sort of attention, he said. I assume that questioning him would have dragged your name into it?”

“Anur played bait for it, it had been isolated within a threshold for three days before we arrived to deal with it, so once it was drawn out we were able to burn its core,” Kir confirmed, “Rodri was the first to fall to it, and it’s my belief his knack for flames rose from that.”

“Some of his exercises reminded me of the ones you showed us, before Darius started pestering you and botched that exercise anyway,” Jaina shuddered at the memory, “I told him to be careful, but he seemed rather sensible about it. Given, he’s only been a Firestarting initiate for a few moons, but he’s been working in the forges for a fair while now if reports are accurate.”

“He has, I asked Axeli to look out for him,” Kir confirmed, “My leaving Sunhame was rather… hasty, so I decided it was best to not have my name linked to his. Particularly given that by that time I’d become acquainted with Solaris and knew that there was some form of unrest coming. Best he remain protected by his youth in that case.”

“Who’s Darius?” Anur asked idly, swirling the dregs of his tea.

“Remember my warnings about internal temperature adjustment?” Kir replied obliquely, clarifying mentally, _:The one that exploded, like that dummy Griffon tried to warm the first time?:_

“You didn’t just make that one up?” Anur raised an eyebrow, Kir returning the gesture and asking dryly, “Why would I make something like that up?”

“I don’t know, a warning of some sort? To get people to stop pestering you to warm up their cloaks in the middle of winter?” Anur shrugged, draining the last of his tea with a shudder at the bitter aftertaste, continuing, “You burn their internal organs all the time, but all that happens is that shoot of flame coming out of their mouths – it’s not like they literally _explode_ , figured if setting their innards on fire wouldn’t do it, it wasn’t going to work.”

“Well I don’t know _how_ he did it,” Kir rolled his eyes, “As Jaina implied, he took one of my techniques and ideas and then botched it somehow – I can’t replicate it, that internal organs bit was actually a result of me trying to reproduce it, but I just can’t figure it. I can’t get water to flash to steam quite yet, and blood’s even more stubborn to manipulate to that extent.”

“Is this topic really appropriate right now?” the Second Order across from Anur asked, looking nauseous, “We’re _eating_.”

“It’s not like we’re eating sausage or anything bloody,” Anur snorted, “And even then, that just makes for good models.”

Colbern laughed softly, shaking his head ruefully as he said, “Not just the Enforcer, then. You’re with the Sunsguard a lot, the pair of you.”

“Of course,” Kir replied, startled that it had even been in question, “I’m chaplain of the 62nd Cavalry, have been for near fourteen years – I was assigned there when I left Sunhame and never switched out. I pulled Anur into our forces a few years ago but he was already familiar with them at that point.”

Colbern let out a low whistle, nodding slowly and saying, “Makes sense then – well keep in mind, you two, that I’m the only other Firestarter who’s ever served as a chaplain, and my term was decades ago, finished out just before the Tedrel Wars.”

“Though if we’re going to be going against blood mages in Hardorn, that’s going to change,” Jaina frowned, “Is it going to be full scale war? Or just the incidentals? I assume we won’t be doing a preemptive strike of any sort.”

“Can’t afford it,” Anur shook his head, Kir continuing, “But Ancar attacking us is… likely. We won’t be officially sent against him as an act of war, because as Anur said, we can’t afford that. Not with the reforms that need to be pushed through and the civil unrest that hasn’t quite erupted yet.”

“People are still too scared,” Kavrick snorted, “It’ll take some quieter weeks before they get the guts up to actually try something. But even with incidentals, we’re going to be dealing with the Guard, so Jaina has a point. This _lothga_ , was there enough time for our standard ritual chants?”

“Definitely not,” Kir shook his head, “Not if the goal was to have no casualties. And given the situation we walked into with Rodri on the way here – I’d prefer if no one was sent out in the field without at least some ability to defend themselves without flames.”

“Rodri? Our initiate? What happened?” Jaina demanded, and Kir grimaced, this wasn’t exactly going to encourage them to leave their self-imposed isolation after all.

“He was cornered on the way to the forgemaster he works with,” Anur shrugged, downplaying the situation a bit with his tone and description, “Some idiots hurling insults, probably drunk – scared the kid more than anything, people didn’t want to get in the middle so they were just milling around when Kir and I cut in on our way to the District. Got there a few moments before the forgemaster came barreling through ready to take a hammer to anyone after the kid, so at least we managed to keep him from bashing any heads in. Wouldn’t exactly have been the impression we’d have wanted to leave.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kir grumbled, fairly certain he was at least half-joking, “I would have been perfectly happy seeing their brains on the ground. Wouldn’t have been much to speak of anyway.”

Anur snorted and shook his head, swapping out Kir’s half-full tea for his empty one. Kir didn’t bother grabbing for it, he preferred his own blends. Thankfully he’d brought some, never left home without them, though their packs were still in Solaris’ quarters for now.

But even with Anur’s softening of the situation, with Kir’s black-humored comment, he could see the fight fade from his brethren, their brief hope in a new purpose, in a worthy cause, fading under the weight of the reminder of what they’d done. Of what they were going to be held responsible for doing.

“So they do hate us,” Lumira said lowly, shoulders slumping, “Kavrick was right, then. We are being targeted, being blamed when it wasn’t just us.”

“We’re easy targets,” the youngest of them murmured, hunching in on himself, “Summoners can just vanish into the woodwork, red-robes have always had less fearsome duties – we’re the ones set aside the moment someone sees us.”

“And now, even after all these declarations, these changes, it is again our job to burn,” Jaina said quietly, “To set fire to the Son of Sun’s enemies.”

“You won’t be forced to,” Kir said, resting a hand on her arm, Jaina looking up at him half-heartedly and he continued, wanting to impress upon her, upon all of them, just how sincere he was. “If you truly want to leave those duties behind, you can, all of you. You won’t be forced to burn someone. Never again.”

“It never was against my will, though,” Jaina murmured, a wretched despair in her voice, “I thought I was doing the right thing. I was _honored_ to be head of the Order, to be the first and final line of defense between the faithful and the wicked. All this time I thought I was protecting the faithful, serving the Sunlord in a vital role – and it was a _lie_.”

“I think I speak for all of us when I say we had similar thoughts,” Colbern said wearily, seeming twice-again his age. Seras grimaced next to him but nodded nevertheless, whispering, “I… ignored any doubts. Only had them later on, when I watched – it was much later, after many years of pride.”

Tired agreements, slumping shoulders, fading sparks greeted that statement and Kir watched them slip away again with a furious sort of grief. Distractions were no longer enough, would never have been enough, were simply a stalling mechanism, always – these men and women had been betrayed, betrayed utterly by the system they were raised to, by the people they were brought up to trust. He was the _aberration_ , not the rule. And this complete betrayal of _everything_ , all the support they had – that this was a duty, it was unpleasant, it was awful, but it _had to be done_ – was wrenched away and it was a more than minor miracle that none of them had burned themselves to ash yet. Even the lowliest of Third Order Firestarters was capable of that.

He looked briefly over at Anur, and the Herald just stared back at him helplessly, not having any more of an idea than him of what exactly could drag them out of this, could bring them some sort of _spark_ back.

Well. He had tried guiding them to the answers themselves. He had tried carefully urging the tinder to light, gently adding kindling and fuel in the hopes it would work. But they were soaked wood, soaked with tears and grief and _apathy_ , worst of all, so that wasn’t going to work.

Time for a liberal dash of _prodka_ then.

“Is that it then?” he challenged, “Is that all you plan to do? Horror of horrors, we’ve been lied to our entire lives. We’ve burned innocent children, listened to their screams of blistering agony and have blood-soaked ash coating our hands and buried deep under our fingernails. That is _never_ going to go away. One year of doubts, five years, a lifetime or none at all that changes _nothing_! That changes _nothing_ of what we have done, what we are responsible for!”

He found himself on his feet, glaring at the stunned faces that were turned towards him, feeling inexplicably _furious_ now that he’d begun to speak. How dare they give up? They had at least thought they were doing the right thing, had at least had that comfort to cling to all these years. He’d _known_ he was burning innocents and all he’d had to hold to was the fact that he would grant them a mercifully quick death. And they were breaking _now_?

He thought not.

“Where things change is _now_ , right now in this _very moment_. Now that we all know, that _everyone_ knows what we’ve done, the question is what you’re going to do about it. From the sounds of it, most of you would be perfectly happy immolating yourselves immediately, some false penance for your very real crimes. But think on this, before you duck out of your responsibilities – you will face the Sunlord then. You will face Him, face those you _burned_ and what will you say? That you gave up? That you did _nothing_ to repent for your actions? To rebuild our Order, to rebuild our _priesthood_ into something that we can be happy to serve, that the Sunlord can be proud of?”

“Cowards!” he cried, slamming his hand against the table, smoke rising from his hand – he really needed to get better about that, this was the second time he’d burned his handprint into wood in the course of an argument – “Unwilling to face reality, to face _consequences_. Leave the rebuilding to those who have no ash on their hands, leave them to face the rage, the fear turned to anger – unjust! Unfair!”

He swept a scathing look across the group before straightening, saying coolly, “Do what you will, but I plan to dedicate the rest of my _life_ to ensuring this _never_ happens again. To restoring our Order to the protectors we were meant to be, not the nightmare fuel we became. And I plan to start with Ancar.”

Silence, broken only by breathing, and Kir hardly dared hope that this had somehow gotten through to them – it had to, it _had to_ because he was out of ideas –

“I think,” Seras said quietly, looking up from his hands with a rueful sort of smile, “I think I have a few more burnings in me. I owe it to them to make those, at least, count for something.”

Jaina rose to her feet next to him, looking up at him with a fierce despair-fueled rage in her eyes as she swore, “I will join you in that, brother. But I will not lead the way.”

Ah – right. He’d never exactly gotten around to mentioning the fact Solaris had selected him as the new head of the Firestarting Order. There had been more urgent things to address.

Suddenly, Jaina was leaning back, eyes wide and awestruck before she suddenly knelt, head bowed. Blinking, he looked around at the others only to find they were in the same position, some murmuring prayers. He turned to look at Anur to find that his brother, at least, was being more reasonable and instead was looking at him with an odd sort of smile on his face, chunk of cheese in hand. “Nice robes,” he commented.

Looking down, Kir suppressed either a sigh or a yelp – he honestly couldn’t figure which reaction he’d managed to hold back. His formerly worn and occasionally threadbare robes of fading red were renewed yet altered, a true crimson again, with edging of black flanked by gold.

“I _liked_ my old robes,” he said mournfully, Anur bursting into laughter at that declaration, echoed by another chuckle, unfamiliar and in his mind. Again.

A flare of flame, and a Firecat sat on the table in front of him. Of leaner build than Hansa, this Cat’s markings were mottled reds and oranges, giving him the appearance of true flames – if not to the extent Anur’s initial impression of a Firecat had been.

“A Firecat?” Jaina whispered, a near childish awe in her tone and the Cat nodded towards her, some private words being exchanged judging by her flickering expressions before something approaching peace descended on her.

 _:Please, rise,:_ the Cat said, gaze locking onto Kir while the others slowly regained their feet and Anur’s voice entered his mind, comforting in it’s familiarity, _:He agrees to Hansa’s terms, though reserves the right to communicate directly in an emergency situation. He is Kari, and is here for the entire Order.:_

 _:Thank the One God,:_ Kir swore, relieved. A Firecat would help immensely – both in reassuring people that the Firestarting Order was back on the true path and in shoring up the Firestarters themselves. He’d managed to drag them into some semblance of functionality with his spontaneous mostly frustration-fueled speech, but any help with that would be greatly appreciated.

 _:Firecats are also conveniently fluffy and huggable,:_ Anur added, Kir not even asking where that had come from because he was entirely certain that he didn’t want to know – not right now when he couldn’t give away the fact that Kari wasn’t the only one here who could mindspeak.

“An honor, Kari,” he said aloud, bowing his head to the Cat, who returned the gesture. _:It is my honor, he says,:_ Anur relayed. Hopefully there wouldn’t be much call for active dialogue between them or he might have to reconsider his stance on no other voices in his head. This could get tedious.

The Cat stood and leapt off the table, settling on the bench between Kir and Anur, pawing at Anur’s leg until he handed him a piece of bread. Kir retook his own seat and everyone followed – except for Anur as he’d never actually left his seat in the first place.

A quick sweep of the group and he knew he needed to wrap this up quickly. They’d been exhausted before, terror and self-loathing and an unwillingness to face their dreams keeping them going, but now that they’d had the chance to sit, to be reassured even slightly that they were not doomed, they were fading fast. “We can deal with the rest later,” Kir decided, looking over at them all, “Figuring out arms practice, combative firestarting – even deciding if you want to stay in the Order – it can wait. Get some rest, all of you. We’ll start work on the morrow.”

Gathering the empty mug Anur had left in front of him, he went to refill the mug with water before heading for the door, Anur meeting him there with a few slices of cheese in hand. Kari had apparently elected to stay behind and was hopefully in the midst of introducing himself to everyone personally. Being individually acknowledged by a Firecat would serve as a balm for their guilt.

They were halfway down the hall when the enormity of what had just happened hit him and he stopped, swaying slightly before reaching out blindly for Anur’s shoulder with one hand and bracing himself. “Was wondering when that was going to hit,” his friend said wryly, resting a hand between his shoulder blades, “Easy there, Kir. We’ve managed.”

“A Firecat,” Kir said numbly, “One for Solaris, almost expected – but for _us_? For Firestarters?”

“What, was that whole there is still evil to burn rant just lip service?” Anur raised an eyebrow, hand shifting to his shoulders and shaking him slightly, “Hey, you said it yourself, Kir. There’s still evil to burn, and what better way to show that just because the office of Firestarter was abused, that doesn’t mean it’s not necessary, than to have a Firecat for the entire Corps?”

“No I – I truly believe that but,” Kir let out a shuddering breath, brilliant crimson of his robes catching his eye and he flinched, “It’s too much.”

“Like hell,” Anur said bluntly, finally tugging him into a one-armed embrace, saying quietly, “This is going to be a mess, a ridiculous, awful mess and the Sunlord’s seen fit to offer some help – to start your leadership of the Order off on the right foot, so to speak. It’s barely even a _beginning_ , Kir. You’ve still got plenty of work to do.”

The silence that fell was comfortable, as all their silences had become lately, before Anur broke it with an amused, “You have got to be the only person who’d rather work an extra three years than have to deal with a manifestation of divine favor, really.”

“I’m not that bad,” Kir grumbled, smiling slightly nonetheless. Anur had hit the nail on the head, of course. It wasn’t just that he found miracles and manifestations unnerving – which he did, that probably would never change and _shouldn’t_ change to be honest – but he didn’t like the idea of options, of _paths_ being taken because they were deemed too difficult or too long. It felt like a short-cut, like he was cheating, taking the easy way out.

He had taken the easy way, the path of least resistance, for years, and it had been wrong. It had been so very, very wrong until that path of least resistance, of minimal flames, had somehow inverted in on itself and turned him into a revolutionary when he spent a peaceful night sharing stories with a Herald.

“Oh you are,” Anur laughed, tightening his hold for a moment before releasing him and slipping his hands into his pockets, “But you’re getting better – if I hadn’t known you so well I wouldn’t have noticed that twitch towards the doors when your robes changed.”

“All the wear and tear is gone,” Kir said ruefully, examining his sleeves again, “It’s silly, perhaps, but – I liked those old robes. They were... _mine_ , I suppose. A sign of my work.”

“It’s not silly,” Anur retorted, “Your robes are what set you apart, but the wear and tear is what brought you in. They showed something of your history, your willingness and ability to work with the unit, that’s not silly. That’s _important._ So it’s just as well that your old robes aren’t gone – take a look at those Kir, all the stains and marks are still there, you’re just not used to finding them against a crimson backdrop.”

Kir paused and stepped into the sunlight streaming through one of the few plain glass windows, examining his left sleeve in the light and feeling some of his tension leave, ridiculously enough. Because right there, just barely touching the new gold-edging of his old black trim, was the dog-shaped mutli-layered blood stain he’d never been able to get out. As if spotting that had made the others appear from nothing, his eyes were finally able to pick out the few carefully mended tears, the re-sewn hems, the occasional patch. They were harder to see, eye drawn to the brilliant red and gold and black rather than the faint discolorations, but still there.

These were still _his_ in a way he hadn’t realized was important to him until he’d thought them gone.

“Uniforms are important,” Anur murmured, answering Kir’s unspoken sheepishness, “They’re symbols, and yours just symbolized a lot more. Now, where are we heading, exactly?”

“I was thinking we’d head for the records hall, see if I can find some texts I squirreled away from the main archives,” Kir shrugged, “They might still be there. Then we’ll have to figure out quarters – my old ones should be fine, they’re a bit smaller than the ones at the 62nd but we’re not going to be spending much time there anyway.”

“The bigger quarters were only really needed because we had evenings where we’d be doing nothing, and there was nowhere else to go,” Anur agreed, “Smaller shouldn’t be a problem. What sort of records are kept in your hall? And what all is this Hall for, anyway? That main hall was for what, conclaves? What are those? And why were you called Eldest when they were older than you? And  - “

“Anur,” Kir interrupted, amused, “One question at a time.”

“Right, sorry,” Anur laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as Kir opened the door to the records room, “Let me start again.”


	5. Belated Introductions

“So… who was that, exactly?” Henrik, ordained two years ago, asked, breaking the silence that had fallen after their new Incendiary’s departure.

Colbern felt his lips twitch, then Seras snorted and they all lost any chance of holding onto composure, the group dissolving into somewhat hysterical laughter as the events of the past not-even-mark caught up with them. Somehow they had gone from tearing themselves apart at the seams to having a new mission, a new Head and a Firecat here for their Order.

And they hadn’t even introduced themselves.

“That was – that was Kir Dinesh,” Jaina managed to gasp, wiping her eyes with her sleeves, no longer bearing the gold-edged black trim of the Incendiary and the weight on her shoulders seeming all the lighter for that lack. “He is the Eldest First Order Firestarter, and new Incendiary. We were ordained together, but he was the one ordained as a First Order Firestarter, my promotion to First Order was a few moons later.”

“Ordained straight into the First Order?” Tristan, ordained alongside Henrik, raised an eyebrow, “That’s… extremely impressive. Why have we never heard of him then?”

“He got on the bad side of a summoner Voice by the name of Phyrris,” Seras replied, having always been the most concerned with tracking current and former Firestarters to know the fates of each of their fellows. He had come to view it as his responsibility, being the truly _eldest_ of them.

Kavrick choked on his tea, neighboring Second Order, Valerik, gleefully pounding his fellow on the back with possibly excessive force. They’d always had a strange relationship, ever since the first time Kavrick had tripped the younger man on purported accident.

Spluttering as he managed to swallow, he gave Valerik a dirty look before saying, “I’ve heard of that one – nothing good. From what Fredric said, even the other summoners were rather grateful he was dead. Power-hungry man, wanted to climb the ranks and could care less who he stepped on. Not all that uncommon, really, but he was a particularly nasty breed of it.”

“Yes well,” Jaina sighed, “Kir never did pick easy enemies. I think that’s one of the main reasons Varius recommended him for First Order trials straight away – none of us had any doubt he could pass them, failed prodigy rumors or no, but anything less and he’d be a lot more vulnerable to actual actively pursued death. As it was – I basically forgot about him, he was sent away so quickly, and it was understood he was supposed to die in a convenient accident soon enough.”

“That’s where I’d heard his name before!” Lumira snapped her fingers, “The failed prodigy! Everyone was so excited about him when he showed up – hells, Varius kept bragging about the boy he’d dragged in and then it all just… died out. Never did anything to really distinguish himself.”

“Well if he really did doubt the burn-worthiness of witches ever since he was an initiate, that only makes sense,” Colbern shrugged, “Even if he didn’t really doubt their burn-worthiness for that long, which I doubt, keeping your head down in Sunhame only makes sense. Particularly if he has a knack for making powerful enemies, like Jaina said.”

“Which is really the last thing we need with our position so tenuous,” Jaina sighed, hands carding through the Firecat’s fur while it curled up on the table in front of her. Colbern raised an eyebrow at her, agreeing in theory but considering just Who had played a hand in naming him Incendiary, he had a feeling things were going to work out reasonably well for their Order.

“You forget that he made powerful friends as well, if he’s been working for Her Eminence for so long,” Valerik pointed out shrewdly, “Besides that, stories bearing his and his Enforcer’s names, if not guesses similar to them, are all over the place, if you care to listen – there were rumors of the Oathbreaker long before we received any sort of report on it. Rumors of a haunt, monster-slayings, a rogue witch-powered… that we need to find another name for – even a fire in the Comb!”

“I forgot you liked to don plainclothes and slip into Sunhame,” Lumira snorted, “Well, you’ll have an easier time of it now then, there are rumors Her Eminence is going to throw open the gates.”

“Oh I hope not,” Seras groaned, “Not yet anyway, that’s a terrible idea. Especially if people are being mobbed, we won’t be so lucky as to have an initiate get cornered and rescued every time, we’re not the only ones terrified, just the most vulnerable.”

There was a long silence at that, at yet another reminder of the challenges their Order was going to face for the near future. Finally, Colbern sighed and said, “Well there’s nothing for it. We’re going to have to present this all to Kir on the morrow, because to be perfectly honest the man was right, we could all use some sleep. I recommend dream-tea, everybody. I recommend it highly.”

 _:I can ensure peaceful dreams for one night, at least,:_ the Cat spoke at last and all of them twitched at the voice in their minds. It was… decidedly unnerving, and reassuring, all at the same time.

“Thank you, Honored Kari,” Seras murmured, echoes of thanks circling the room. There were a few more awkward, silent moments before Laskaris, another Second Order, recently promoted, shoved back from the table and stalked out, hands locked in the small of his back. The room emptied rather quickly, Kari stretching and padding out after Tristan, leaving the former triumvirate of the Order sitting at the table.

“There’s so much I need to discuss with him,” Jaina murmured, crossing her arms on the table, “I don’t even – I mean honestly, I don’t think his Enforcer has the first idea as to proper policy in Sunhame.”

“If they were running around killing blood-mages and _lothga_ and conducting investigations for a coup, Sunhame manners would hardly be a priority,” Seras said dryly, “I wouldn’t worry about it Jaina. That same ignorance you’re worried about may very well be exactly what we need – bluntness can be its own weapon.”

“It may even keep people from eyeing us too sidelong,” Colbern suggested hopefully, knowing it was highly doubtful, even improbable, but couldn’t help but hope. Politics – of the honey-coated poison, silken-covered razors variety – had been the mode of operation in Sunhame for… for centuries, at the least. Seras had always been better at it, while he had gone to being a chaplain thinking the Sunsguard would be a haven from that doubled-back political mess, and for a time it had.

For a brief time, a wonderful, if isolated and fear-tinged, time, it had.

Someone who was just as inclined (and, more importantly, entirely _able_ ) to cut through the dross and set it on fire would be a refreshing change from the norm. Seeing what sort of twists might come from a Firestarter trusted by his Enforcer, trusted by a _Sunsguard_ to the extent those two clearly did, was going to be more than a refreshing change. It promised to be highly entertaining to boot.

“Get some rest, Jaina,” he repeated, gentling his tone for the girl his partner’s year-mate had trained, that he and Seras had been backing and counseling from the moment she’d donned the gold-edged black trim of the Incendiary. She nodded, exhaustion in every line, before finally shoving back from the table and slowly making her way out.

The door shut behind her, and Seras perked up, “So – to our new leaders? But first – the archives?”

Colbern rolled his eyes at the latter request, but still said, “Naturally.”

***===***pagebreak***===***

Kir swept into the records room while Anur pondered what questions he would ask first, watching as Kir looked around the shelves of books with clear fondness. He wouldn’t doubt if this was the one place in Sunhame Kir had truly regretted leaving behind. It was an impressive room, perhaps half the size of the formal Hall they’d entered first, and filled with shelves of books. A large central area of chairs arrayed around tables left space for a shielded and screened hearth to not be an immediate threat to the books, while massive windows opposite the hearth provided light without bathing the tomes in damaging sunlight most of the day.

Around the edges he could spot occasional desks with writing implements, and he could almost see groups of young people studying, researching topics or debating methodology – just like any study room in the Collegium. It was strangely comforting.

“Ha! My couch is still here,” Kir cheerfully grabbed a small couch with worn blue upholstery and pulled it into the sun, setting his mug of once again steaming tea on the table now next to it and sitting down, kicking his boots off and literally curling up in it. Anur stifled a laugh at how _cat-like_ Kir looked at the moment, curled up in the sun with half-lidded eyes, a barely-there smile on his face.

He felt an almost uncontrollable need to ruffle his hair.

Managing to restrain himself, Anur instead claimed the other half of the seat and pulled his boots off, taking advantage of Kir’s odd pose to stretch his legs out a bit, wedging his legs around Kir’s and cheerfulling ignoring his friend’s grumbles as he was forced to reposition a bit. “Now, for my questions,” he said at last, “First, why did they all call you Eldest when most of them were clearly older than you?”

“I’m the First Order Firestarter who’s been ordained the longest,” Kir replied promptly, Anur nodding as he’d guessed something along those lines.

“All right – so what’s this Conclave business then? It sounds like something that would require all Firestarters to be present, if big decisions are made during it,” Anur tilted his head back to stare up at the vaulted ceiling thoughtfully, continuing, “And if that’s the case, how could they have one without you there?”

“The Conclave – well, it’s simply a gathering of Firestarters that decide policy and review incidents over the past year,” Kir shrugged, taking a sip of his tea before elaborating, “That occurs every winter, and Firestarters not given a permament posting elsewhere are required to attend. Firestarters with permanent postings are few and far between, for the most part we simply are assigned districts to inspect and patrol for witchcraft. It’s a very… liberal order, in a sense. Standard Firestarters are sent out to their districts and have to patrol for a minimum of 10 weeks, after that they are free to do what they like so long as it’s within the scope of their duties and they don’t step on any toes, politically speaking. From what I remember, for the most part once those 10 weeks are over Firestarters return to Sunhame and – well, lurk, for lack of a better word.”

“And it’s some sort of Firestarter-only gathering?”

“Usually not enforced because they have servants and initiates bring tea and paper and notes and all manner of things, but in its original form, yes, it was a Firestarter-only gathering. Also, I’m fairly certain they called an emergency Conclave, rather than the usual annual one, since usually the annual report session takes place the week before Midwinter’s Day. Emergency Conclaves are exclusive to Firestarters and are extremely rare. Technically speaking, if anyone not a Firestarter enters, it’s within our rights to burn them where they stand.”

“So needless to say, no one’s tried pushing the issue,” Anur frowned, looking around at the library and wondering at the sheer size of this Hall – it was a misnomer, this was far more of a compound, a district within a District and he had to wonder at how many other Orders had this – for that matter, how many other Orders were there? He had studied the basics of the Sunpriests, but had never had to deal overmuch with them and even his crash course in Enforcement had run more along the lines of situations they’d been likely to encounter.

Spending the winter in Sunhame had not been one of their focuses.

“What about me then?” he asked finally, “I know where I stand with the Sunsguard – and you mentioned I’m something of an honorary Firestarter once, but with relation to the others here… what can I expect?”

“Well, it’s very dependent on my status within the Order,” Kir shifted slightly to rest his head against the back of the seat, “If we look simply at the class of Enforcer, you’re viewed as something of a… Fourth Order Firestarter, you have authority over the acolytes and initiates no matter what rank your sponsor is. With my being First Order, and remember that you’re essentially viewed as an extension of me, you have authority over the entire Order aside from Jaina – technically speaking, again. Since I’m the head of the Order now – you’re essentially a First Order Firestarter, as far as authority goes. I wouldn’t recommend actually acting on that for a while, we’re going to be in a tenuous position, but that’s where you stand on paper.”

“Ideally I won’t be in a situation where that’s necessary, but it’s something I should know,” Anur shrugged uncomfortably, “I’m not exactly the typical Enforcer.”

“You couldn’t be,” Kir snorted, “I’m not the typical Firestarter. Our focus was entirely different than a Sunhame based pair. Hopefully with Colbern around to remind both parties that there’s a distinct difference in lifestyle we’ll be able to work things out without offending anyone, but if anyone asks about your lack of knowledge just blame me and my dislike of Sunhame. Not like it isn’t true.”

 _:Best not to breathe a word even hinting at your northern origins, even alone,:_ Kir continued mentally, a distantly thoughtful look on his face as he examined the hearth – a clear stalling technique so their silence wouldn’t be noticed as out of place. _:And we may have to reassess Aelius’ description as a reasonably friendly battlesteed, we’re a little too used to having everyone in the area cover for us.:_

 _:I can take care of that,:_ Aelius spoke up, having been lurking in the background the whole time. No comments, just a presence – this was quite possibly the most dangerous place in Karse for them right now, and he had a feeling if he thought about it too hard, a panic attack would be almost inevitable. _:Just be ready to cover for me – I now hate certain voices. And Riva might end up hating blondes.:_

 _:Um… okay?:_ Anur replied, wondering how exactly hating certain voices was going to work into anything but trusting Aelius could handle it.

 _:Blondes?:_ Kir echoed his dubiousness, but had come to trust Aelius enough that he didn’t ask for elaboration either. Probably best they didn’t know anyway, their reactions would be more genuine.

“What about this Hall?” Anur finally spoke, letting his own contemplative mask fall away, waving a hand around to indicate the whole building, “It seems… remarkably self-contained. Your own archives, your own assembly room, a kitchen – given, very basic food when you consider _citrus tea_ as comparison, but decently stocked with the essentials – a central courtyard garden area, and that’s leaving aside the rest of the building I haven’t seen yet! Is this… common? For each Order to have their own place?”

“Not really, no,” Kir replied, “The others are all too big for it to be practical. The most basic of divisions is black and red-robe. Originally, black-robes were scholars, lawmakers and such – the governors, once Karse became a true theocracy. The red-robes were the ones who carried out the more classical priestly duties, ministering in parishes, serving as chaplains and healers and the like. After a while the divisions became much less clear, but at the most basic, black-robes are expected to be more knowledgable, to be able to quote Writ and Rule and technicalities, whereas red-robes are considered more… practical. The ones that actually take action.”

“But aren’t summoners always black-robes?”

“Yes, because initially only black-robes were mages. As a standard rule black-robes have a tendency to draw more mages, simply because so much study is necessary when one is a powerful mage. Now it’s symbolic, black-robes can be summoners or scholars, or both, or neither.”

“Okay, so we’ve got our black-robes,” Anur waved his left hand, “And our red-robes,” waved his right, “And they essentially split the priesthood in half.”

“Correct.”

“Now you said once that Firestarters are between red and black robes in authority – except you police the entire priesthood – so… how does that work? That seems to imply that red-robes are lower than black-robes on the power-scale.”

“No, that’s not – we’re _between_ because we have practices from both. We’re lawmakers, decree-givers, and at the same time we serve an active purpose, have more active roles. We’re scholars in addition to having practical obligations and responsibilities. It’s not that red and black robes contain a different rank – at least not within the priesthood. Outside, it is entirely possible, even likely, that lay-people consider black-robes more powerful because there’s always the chance that a black-robe is a summoner.”

“Okay, so between as in a mix, rather than a divider. Makes sense. So then are there subdivisions within each half? Black robe and red robe, I mean? When Loshern introduced himself he said black-robe of the Second Order, I think? Then tacked on circuit judge and summoner as afterthoughts?”

“All right,” Kir set his tea aside and shifted so he was sitting up straighter, half tailor-style and hooking an arm around his knee while he gestured, “If I were to introduce myself formally, I would say Kir Dinesh, Incendiary, Chaplain of the 62nd. You list your name, your Order, your rank within the Order, then your particular duties if you have some permanent assignation.”

Anur could feel his lips twitching, and he couldn’t help but ask, “Incendiary?”

Kir sighed, “That’s one of the least ridiculous titles for the Head of the Firestarting Order.”

“Doesn’t that also mean arsonist?” Anur asked around choked down laughs, but he soon lost that battle at Kir’s resigned nod and dissolved into snickers. “Oh, man, I needed that,” Anur managed to get himself under control and chuckled again, “Incendiary, wow. Talk about a two-faced title. Right – so then there are ranks within the Orders? And those ranks are called Orders? That’s confusing.”

“The Firestarting Order is an overall rank as well as subdivision,” Kir elaborated, “So we have Black-robes, Red-robes, and Firestarters, essentially. Ranks are referred to as Orders, First, Second or Third, depending on length of service, abilities within your particular field, exemplary duties, or being good at political games. A variety of things, really. You’ll note that no one says Firestarter Order, you say you are part of the Firestarting Order – technically speaking someone could be part of the Firestarting Order without being a full Firestarter. That’s where you’re at, actually. You’re part of the Firestarting Order, but you’re not a full member of the Firestarter Corps, you’re an associate.”

“…You don’t happen to have any flow-charts with this, do you?”

“Sorry, no.”

“Ugh. Simpler question – does anyone else have a Hall compound district thing like this? Is there a Summoner’s Hall, a Healer’s corridor, a Circuit Judge residence? An Exorcist lounge?”

“Nothing so formal. There are areas which are understood to be mostly occupied by one or the other group – except for the exorcist one, I don’t think there’s any sort of regular ‘spot’ for them, in the rare incidences there’s more than a few active,” Kir shrugged, “Firestarters are unique in that respect.”

“Is that because you – oh what was it you said – predate the theocracy? And the Son of Sun, I think you mentioned?” Anur wondered at that; he’d looked into the Valdemaran records regarding Karse and found mentions of the Son of Sun and the theocratic government of Karse from their very first encounter – some bare century and change after the Founding. That made for near a millennia of theocratic rule, and if that were the case, where did Ari’s story fit in? Clearly further back – there were no stories of crazily powerful Sorcerers in Valdemar’s legends that he recalled, but how far? Was it far enough to truly predate the theocracy?

“How far back do your records go?” he finally asked, somewhat awestruck as he started truly considering the implications. If he held the gist of Ari’s story as true, which he did, something in it struck chords, resonated within him from the first time he heard it – it was _true_ , at its core, probable elaborations and fancying up with the Karsite equivalent of Bardic license aside – then take in Kir’s claim of their Order predating the theocracy and the implications were _ridiculous_. They had records that barely predated the founding – hazards of being founded by refugees, he supposed – but nothing further back. The idea of having that much history, that much _knowledge_ , recorded away – well. He would have to introduce Kir to Myste when this whole thing went through. He had a feeling the two would get on like a house Kir didn’t like on fire.

“There are no written records of Ari’s life from his day that survive here,” Kir replied, “There are written oral histories, from some time later, but nothing from that era itself. The earliest written Writs predate the proposed dates of Ari and Witach’s encounter, as the very first of recordings have little mention of abusing magical power – afterwards, there’s a distinct shift in tone towards mages, one of being held accountable and being content with what the Sunlord grants. But there aren’t any writings aside from Writs that have been preserved for that long. And to be honest, I don’t know if even they still survive – the copies of copies that I read were… in jeopardy. Hopefully someone has managed to hide them away from various political purges but it’s something of a miracle we still have records that old after all this.”

Correction; Kir and Myste would get along like fire and a blood-mage facing Kir.

Really well, in a way that would send most people running for the hills.

“As for predating the theocracy,” Kir shrugged, “That is confirmed. Firestarters were simply part of the Priesthood, fulfilling everyday duties for the most part until reports came in of a _witach_ terrorizing people or signs of blood-magic or a priest gone power-mad. Then they’d don their black-edged robes and ride out. It didn’t become a full-time job until the theocracy started some centuries later, and even then it was only a few that were Firestarters and nothing else. It wasn’t until… oh, six, seven hundred years ago that Firestarters were pulled from normal duties and made full-time witch hunters. Based on the timing alone, it can be somewhat assumed that it was in response to the attempted assassination of the Son of Sun by a blood-mage.”

“Huh,” Anur frowned, “Are you going to try and return the Order to that? A part-time job, of sorts?”

“I think it would work out better that way,” Kir sighed, “But that will have to wait until we have something of a cohesive Order to work with.”

“Valid. All right then, how about a tour of your cataloging system? If we’re going to be spending time here, I might as well explore these ridiculously ancient records of yours – and where are your Firestarting manuals? Griff would love to hear about them. And then a tour of this Hall we’re living in might be in order.”

Kir was entirely at ease here in this room of books with no one to act for, so he might as well prolong their stay here as much as he could. The fact that it would provide more information to stall a vengeful Herald-Chronicler with was entirely incidental.


	6. Plans

There hadn’t been an Enforcer-Firestarter pair in more than a century, and Seras would know as he’d become something of the Firestarter scholar after riding for days on end to conduct patrols became less and less feasible. He could manage a week of hard riding but his bones would hate him thoroughly afterwards, meaning wherever he got to with that week of riding was going to have to wait a few days for him to be functional again.

So his ten-week patrol took more along the lines of twenty, and once he returned to Sunhame, he didn’t leave. Let the younger ones go out when emergencies called, check on the Feasts of the Children, rotate through the longer-distance patrols. He’d take advantage of seniority and call the shortest route, in the district closest to Sunhame. Spending his days in the District, complaining about old bones with those few elder priests that would gripe with him, and splitting his time between restoring texts in the Firestarter records and teaching those District-bound acolytes and initiates was far more agreeable than riding in rain, sleet and sun.

Colbern was just under a decade younger than him, but had managed to age much better and still thought racing all over the country was a fine way to spend his days, whatever the weather. Just last year he’d finally spent more than twelve weeks in Sunhame, bitterly complaining that his joints didn’t respond well to riding through freezing rainstorms.

Seras had no sympathy for his friend, none at all.

Especially when he refused to remember anything besides the barest of details about their Order’s history, making him answer questions the man _should_ know the answer to –

“So how long has it been since there was an instated Enforcer?”

Case in point.

“Over a century,” Seras replied promptly, nevertheless – if he didn’t, Colbern would just start taunting him about how he didn’t know the answer and refuse to believe that he did.

Seras fully realized he was just falling into the man’s trap with that, but his pride as a scholar was at stake here!

“And the circumstances around that selection were… entirely political,” Seras snorted, “Some noble son, wanted authority without becoming a priest and somehow fell in with a Firestarter whilst in the Sunsguard – it was all on paper, I honestly don’t recall if the two ever even came to Sunhame together.”

“Not what the office was designed for,” Colbern said, a weary sort of sorrow in his voice. That very sentiment could be applied to far too many positions within the priesthood, and had been applied long before Solaris ever came about.

“Not in the least,” he echoed, letting Colbern open the door to the archives and following him through. He hoped to find records of the more recent changes in Firestarter policy and formalities, recorded in a charter that had expanded from its original page and some to a hefty text over the millennia. With any luck, it would give them somewhere to start, at the least. Give some sense of order to the massive undertaking the entirety of Karse was going to be entering soon enough.

It seemed, though, that he wasn’t the first to have that idea.

“ _On Hallucinogens and the Unquiet Dead_? Well doesn’t _that_ sound familiar,” the Enforcer’s voice carried through the stacks, their new leader’s barked laughed echoing back with a sardonic, “Please, I told you – we do not _drug_ our congregations, merely terrify them into compliance. Besides, that text is utterly useless, the man sought to commune with the dead through extensive use of hallucinogens and his writing style clearly reflects it.”

“…Did you read this entire library?”

“I made a valiant effort.”

“ _Sending Spirits to Rest: A Monograph_ , _Crafting Bonds of Spirit and Soul, On Vows and their Forging…_ hey, would that have anything on what exactly an Oathbreaker rite does?”

“It would discuss what was meant by Oathbreaker in greater detail, and explain how he was harmed by our calling him Oathbreaker, but it won’t have anything on the hunting rite – I assume that’s what you’re after?”

“I was curious about that… buzzing, for lack of a better word, that kicked in after the Hunt – I mean, it was there before, a bit, but that was when it really picked up. Also the whole riding day and night without tiring and without even really realizing it, I still don’t clearly remember what happened those few days.”

“I don’t remember details, but who needs them?” a wry chuckle, Seras finally rounding a shelf and spotting their new, even younger leader. Faint traces of white in his hair aside, he was showing no true signs of aging and if Seras remembered even vaguely right, he had been at least two or three years younger than Jaina, who had already been one of their youngest recorded Incendiaries.

Brilliant crimson robes – a subtle miracle, one almost more impressive for its subtleness – were flung over the back of a chair, leaving Dinesh in what looked to be decent quality Sunsguard scouting armor. Seras was willing to admit he had little to no expertise on that, so would be asking Colbern for his assessments later, but the fact that he even bothered to wear armor – that he had been permitted within the District while bearing steel! – was something to take definite note of.

Pale grey eyes looked up from the texts he was skimming, white archivist’s gloves on his hands, and some of the man’s ease fled, effortless posture stiffening, faint amusement falling away and leaving bland attentiveness behind.

“Brothers,” he said, inclining his head shortly, “Seras and Colbern, Second Order, if I am not mistaken?”

“You are not,” Seras replied, returning the nod, “My apologies for disturbing you, but I simply sought to consult the Charter so we might have a starting point for policy reforms.”

Any response – by that expression, by that tension, an equally formal and politely disinterested one – was interrupted by the Enforcer coming around with a stack of books in his arms, saying, “Kir, if you keep _acting_ like this the entire time we’re in Sunhame, you’re going to hate this city all the more.”

The twist on the word acting, the glance they exchanged, spoke to an undercurrent of communication that Seras and Colbern were missing. The fact that such a communication was even _possible_ spoke volumes as to their actual relationship with one another. He fairly _itched_ to get his hands on some of the old histories and examine the tales of Enforcers; maybe he’d even manage to unearth those rare journals again, being hidden in the stacks as they were.

The impact of that unspoken message was clear to see, their new leader losing some of his tension and allowing a wry smile to cross his face as he nodded towards his Enforcer, before turning to them and waving his hand to the seats across from him, “Join me, if you would. I will not keep you if you simply want to obtain your text and leave, but if you are truly disinclined to rest, I could use some information. My times in these stacks were far too long ago.”

By the time they settled in the seats indicated, the Enforcer was leaning against the back of Dinesh’s chair, to all appearances just peering over his shoulder at the book he was examining. Seras, however, while not as knowledgable about physical violence as Colbern, could see very clearly what would happen if either of them tried to eliminate their Order’s new leader.

And that was without taking into account the fact the last person blocking the way of Solaris’ regime changes had been struck by lightning.

He doubted either of them truly anticipated an attack here, but to act as if they did was entirely understandable and even a commendable example of caution.

“As far as the Charter goes,” Dinesh was saying, still skimming his book and glancing up only occasionally, “I was honestly planning to simply find the oldest recorded version and start with it, working our way forward as things came up again. With a basic code to abide by, we can start dealing with more complex cases as they come – assuming, of course, that everyone is willing to abide by that basic code and the logical extensions of it.”

“Do you two anticipate any problems with that?” the Enforcer asked – Bellamy, he recalled. A strange name, though Anur was normal enough, he supposed.

“With people following the reforms?” Colbern asked cautiously, glancing between the two. He apparently didn’t quite know how to deal with the Enforcer, and Seras was fairly certain it had entirely to do with his unfamiliarity with exactly where an Enforcer stood on a ranking scale. He honestly didn’t know if Colbern’s proclivity for protocol predated his involvement with the Sunsguard, but he would guess that at least some of that preference for rigid ranks had prompted his request for a chaplain posting.

“Anur speaks for me,” Dinesh said absently, gloved finger tracing a line of fading ink, “If you were to be truly technical, as I am Incediary he stands at a similar rank to Jaina.”

Interesting that he had answered Colbern’s confusion, rather than the question itself, at least at first.

“As for the actual question,” he continued with a wry smile, “The one we’re most concerned about is the announcement of the witch-powered’s innocence. The Firestarting Order and the priesthood as a whole derived a lot of power from that practice – is there anyone you suspect may find it hard to remember the new ruling? If we are to be sent out, I can’t afford to send someone out that may very well try to fall back on old habits. It will just end in deaths.”

He was careful to step around the issue of just who would be dying, but none of them had any doubt that it wouldn’t be the witch-powered.

“I don’t – “ Colbern paused, lips narrowing and he continued frankly, “I can’t make any assessment like that. It’s too – the issue is too new. If I were to give you names now, what would your response be?”

“I’d pay a bit more attention to their reactions as we discuss our Order’s future, maybe spend a bit more time ensuring that they were heard, any questions they had answered,” Dinesh replied, finally looking up from his book and turning the whole of his attention to them. As much as Seras felt his own age, knew Colbern was feeling his years, something in this new Incendiary’s gaze made him feel a bare stripling again.

There was an old ache there, an old guilt. Any doubt he may have held about Dinesh’s claim to have near always doubted the witch-powers’ condemnation died at the healed-over and scarred guilt-stricken grief he could find there.

“We’re too few for immediate eliminations to be feasible,” the younger man said tiredly, holding his hands out in an expansive gesture, “There are _eleven_ of us, with, what, a bare few acolytes and Rodri? None ready to serve before another year is out, otherwise they would have been promoted by now. And we’re going to be dealing with a witach fueled war, along with our own internal messes? If I know who may view Solaris with suspicion, may not agree with her reforms – I can hammer it down their throats along with the _consequences_ for making those doubts public before sending them to deal with Ancar. I wouldn’t want to put someone with extensive doubts or even full on disdain within reach of those they can no longer call prey.”

“You think it is coming that soon?” Colbern asked.

“I hope not,” Dinesh sighed, slumping slightly, “I genuinely hope not, but we can’t count on that. We _need_ Firestarters at the border by the spring equinox; they may not be needed for another year but at the least they need to _be_ there. Just in case.”

“It will also get them out of reach of any troubles,” the Enforcer spoke up, gaze sympathetic as he looked up from his Firestarter, “You already know you’ll be targeted by those who are bitter at what the priesthood has done – giving you a duty out where it’s known you’re in danger – not how much danger, just danger – against an enemy no one can claim is innocent, is in some way under Solaris’ new decrees – that will give you a measure of safety. Of _usefulness_ that may at the very least give some of those that would bother you pause.”

“And will give those of us who may tend towards the self-immolation path something to focus on,” Seras pointed out, grimacing because he _knew_ there were some who were already wavering towards that path. These, though, he felt no compunctions about naming.

“Jaina,” he sighed, continuing, “Jaina is one of those who is leaning that direction. She always took the burnings within the District hard, very hard – she viewed it as a necessary duty, an honor, but never _liked_ it – and to know it was all unnecessary? No, she is – she is not taking it well. Henrik and Tristan watched a dorm-mate burn when they were initiates, but that was well before they even came to the attention of the Firestarting Order so I’m not sure that they’ll be so attached to that memory. Laskaris and Fabron are the other two I’d watch for that, if only because Laskaris is so bloody quiet that half the time I forget he’s there. Fabron is new, no burnings, but… he’s a very dramatic person, and very young.”

“Young enough that his entire existence was defined by the priesthood, and it’s been shaken severely,” the Incendiary understood what he was getting at and grimaced, “He’ll either recover easiest or lose the way entirely. Fantastic.”

 _:I cannot speak for their states of mind, not entirely, but for now we will need to focus on keeping them busy,:_ Kari appeared in a flash of flame and Seras was interested to note (after his heart-rate slowed down) that neither Dinesh nor Bellamy flinched at the mental voice – or at the flames so close to their pile of precious books!

“Keeping them busy will only work for so long,” Dinesh retorted, clearly speaking from experience, “I would prefer to give them tasks to focus on that keep us somewhat isolated for a few days, at least until they are a little steadier – it will also allow them to counsel one another, I won’t be trusted enough to serve as confidant for all, if any, of them.”

The Cat gave a rolling sort of shrug, _:You have more experience than I with that sort of thing. But in the meantime, I’ve obtained the compendium of the Charters – it was in the main library.:_

A tap of his paw on the table and a leather-bound tome, clearly old, appeared in a curl of fire.  Seras flinched – the paper! – but the Enforcer’s reaction went the other way, a gleam of excitement appearing in his eyes as he said, “Kir - !”

“No, Anur, I can’t do that,” the Incendiary cut him off, rolling his eyes even as he picked up the book with a nod of thanks to Kari.

“But - !”

“Just because it involves fire doesn’t mean I can do it,” Dinesh snorted, running his fingers across the text’s bindings before opening it to the first pages. If Seras remembered right, the first pages were a recounting of Ari’s story, mentioning that it had first been an oral tale, recorded at long last some centuries after its occurrence. Then there was a brief explanation of the Order as it stood when the Charter text was started, before a copy of the first written Charter was finally put in – one side containing the original ancient Karsite, the other containing old Karsite that, at the time of the writing, was the modern translation.

“That all seems simple enough,” the Enforcer mused, now truly reading the pages over his Firestarter’s head – apparently he could read archaic Karsite. Something else to be laid at their Incendiary’s feet, Seras suspected.

“Yes, the first few were very simple, straightforward,” Dinesh grimaced, “Then it somehow became policy to rewrite the Charter with each new Incendiary and they started growing until we get to today’s.”

He flipped to the back of the book and found the current Charter – of much greater length than their initial page or two. “The rewriting due to Jaina’s promotion,” he explained, holding the chunk of pages carefully, before he chuckled, “I don’t think I’ve ever actually read that one.”

“Why bother starting?” the Enforcer stared at the book askance, “If you’re going to scrap it all anyway.”

“The initial Charter didn’t take into account a lot of things that we’re going to face as a matter of course – it’s going to work as a basis, but I’m going to have to go through this latest one just to see where we stand as far as changes to be made,” the man sighed heavily, before eyeing the two of them and asking, “When this was rewritten, was there a full Conclave held on it, or was it more of a restating with different words due to custom?”

“The latter,” Colbern grumbled, “Utter waste of time and paper if you ask me.”

“It’s going to be a lot to get through – and it might serve as a good way to go over the reforms and their implications in depth,” their superior mused, looking up from his contemplation of the Charter compendium again and saying, “We’ll be devoting at least a mark per day just to going through the Charter and redesigning it – the first Charter to start with, then we’ll work on the latest one and paring it down.”

“As a full group? And do you want the acolytes involved?”

“Acolytes and Rodri, both,” Dinesh nodded, “They are the future of our Order, we can’t very well leave them out. Were they bid for or did they display a preference?”

“Rodri was simply claimed,” Colbern replied, Seras working through mental calculations as to how many days it would take to get through a reconstructed Charter if they stuck to the mark per day schedule. Depending on length of discussion, it could be a years’ long process – they’d have to develop a rough guideline quickly for practicality purposes, a fully reworked and pared down Charter could wait.

Perhaps he could craft a text on that? Reconstructing their Order would be a book-worthy enterprise, and it would give him something to do that would be uniquely _his_ – and give him plenty of opportunities to conduct research without riding around like a crazy young person to set real witches on fire.

“There are two acolytes at the moment, only recently taken from the initiates; one was bid for, the other works with Seras – mostly a scholar, to be honest,” Colbern shrugged, “We have some of the older records, after all. I think that was the appeal for him.”

“There is nothing wrong with having a Firestarter scholar,” Seras said defensively, he had fought very hard to have Etrius brought in as a Firestarter and to be frank it had probably only been the fact that Jaina viewed him as something of an elder uncle that had gotten the boy in. He had very little talent or patience for flames, seeing them as distractions from his true work – preserving history and knowledge.

“Nothing wrong at all,” the Incendiary agreed, interrupting what had promised to be a rehash of an argument he and Colbern had been having off and on for years now, “So long as he is willing to at least learn the basics necessary to qualify for Third Order trials.”

“He knows that is necessary,” Seras snapped, “And he is _fully_ capable he simply doesn’t see the need to rush things!”

His mind caught up with his mouth at that point and he paled, realizing who he’d snapped at only to be relieved at the younger mens’ amused expressions. “I understand,” Dinesh said, “To be perfectly frank, having someone fully devoted to preserving our archives sounds like a fantastic idea. There is knowledge here that I think people have forgotten – old stories previous regimes would rather no one know existed. Having someone to protect that would be invaluable.”

“However, I will need to meet with both acolytes and Rodri to explain the new direction the Order is going to be going in, as it is possible they may no longer wish to be a part of the Order – and, as they have given no vows, it is more than possible for them to switch now,” he continued seriously, focusing on Seras as he said, “I understand that your scholar acolyte will probably want to stay, but I will still want to speak with him, without you present.”

“I understand,” Seras said stiffly, and he did, truly, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be somewhat offended by the whole issue for a while. It was too touchy a topic, and one that was easier for him to dwell on than the current matter of the witch-powered.

“Will there be trouble with asking Rodri?” Colbern raised an eyebrow, “You are the one who was involved in his awakening, after all.”

“If you wish, you can sit in on the discussion and let me know if you think the matter needs to be pursued,” the Incendiary allowed, but the implication that it wouldn’t be necessary was clear. Colbern would still probably take him up on it – if only because Seras would pester him into it so he could keep an eye on Etrius.

“Will that be taken care of tomorrow as well?” Seras asked finally, “Also, is the Conclave concluded?”

“I am not going to enforce Conclave penalties, but I see no need to force people out into the District either,” Dinesh replied with a shrug, “Personally I will not be remaining within the Hall at all times, but I see no need for anyone else to leave if they don’t want to.”

“Very well,” Seras nodded, tiredness from the past few days finally catching up with him and not helped at all by the odd signals he was getting from their new leader. He needed space – space and time to think. “In that case, I will see you tomorrow, Your Incandescence, Lieutenant-Enforcer,” he bowed slightly as he got to his feet before departing, Colbern echoing his farewells and following.

Before they exited the archives, they heard the Enforcer cackle, “Your _Incandescence_?”

“Oh shut up, Anur.”

***===***pagebreak***===***

Kir rolled his eyes at Anur’s laughter, the Enforcer draping himself over the back of his chair and wheezing helplessly. He was fully aware that the title, amongst others, was ridiculous, but that didn’t mean Anur had to lose all composure over it!

A chuckle escaped his own lips though, so he didn’t have much of a leg to stand on. Shaking his head ruefully he shut the Charter compendium after marking the page with one of his half-finished knotwork projects. Who knew that having a stash of those lurking in his pockets for moments when he didn’t have anything to do would come in handy?

“Come on Anur, let’s get this tour out of the way, I assume, Kari, since you are here, everyone is at least somewhat settled and if not sleeping, resting?” he spoke directly to the Cat and there was no need for Anur to relay a response – his nod was enough.

“Leave the books out?”

“Might as well,” Kir sighed, removing the archivist’s gloves he’d found, “We’ll be coming back to go through them again soon enough.”

Standing, he grabbed his robes and pulled them on, absentmindedly tucking them around his blades so he could access his long-knives without getting them snagged. A habit that yet again marked him as different from his fellow Firestarters, though in this, at least, he might be joined by other chaplains.

Not that he could be truly counted as one of _them_ either. But he had Anur and the 62nd now, and that was more than enough.

“The Firestarter Hall is fairly simple in layout,” Kir began, leading the way out the northern doors to the library – on the other side from the ones they’d entered through. “The front is the Hall itself, and is something of a gateway; traditionally speaking, non-Firestarters aren’t allowed past that Hall without express invitation of a full Firestarter and preferably at least the knowledge and approval of the Incendiary. Not exactly enforced, but that’s the tradition.”

“When you say non-Firestarters, are you referring to full priests or all members of the Order? Like Enforcers and acolytes and such?” Anur asked, letting Kari pass into the hall first.

“The latter,” Kir replied, shutting the door behind them and waving his hand towards the southern wall of the corridor they’d entered, occasional windows revealing the inner courtyard and garden. “Inner courtyard and garden – across the way is the kitchen we were in, you can see its windows right there. Mostly herbs and the like, a few decorative plants but not many. Basic meditation garden, with the clear area in the middle used for fire-based training, at least the beginning exercises.”

“No water features?” Anur frowned, examining the garden before his expression cleared, “Never mind, I see the pump now. Right. And there’s a second floor?”

“Correct – the front hall and the archives take up two stories in themselves, while the halls connecting them have two separate levels. The upper levels aren’t accessible from the front hall, the stairs are in the middle of the connecting corridors – along the inner wall of the archives there’s a narrow passage connecting to the two sides, but nothing like that along the front. It would block the windows.”

“I’m assuming the second level has living quarters?” Anur raised an eyebrow, “Just guessing, understand.”

“Good guess,” Kir snorted, inclining his head towards the stairs and quickly ascending, Anur on his heels and Kari still tagging along behind, to all appearances looking around with just as much interest as Anur.

“The first level along the northern side contains storage rooms, a laundry, and a small lounge-office area meant for small group discussions or something along those lines – doubles as a classroom, when there’s actually enough acolytes or initiates to justify it. We’ll probably be there tomorrow to meet with the acolytes and Rodri. Along the southern side there’s the kitchen, storage associated with that and a small chapel for when the full Hall isn’t really necessary – meaning most of the time. Depending on demand, a few of the residences would be converted to storage or offices or things along those lines – at capacity, there’s room for twenty-four of us – more if we doubled up in rooms.”

“Wow,” Anur blinked, “Has there ever been that many?”

“I don’t think so,” Kir smiled ruefully, “And when the Order was at its peak, it was a part-time position, so most of the Corps’ members didn’t actually live within the Hall. With eleven of us, we’ll be rattling around for the most part – well, twelve, I suppose, counting you.”

“So do the acolytes not live here then?” Anur asked, Kir counting doors back towards the archives until he hit the room he’d used during the cumulative few moons he’d actually lived within the Hall. He hesitated to open it – it may have been assigned since he’d last been here after all – but Anur spoke up again, saying, “Kari says it’s unoccupied.”

“Thank you,” he said to both, opening the door and looking around with a bemused curiosity. It seemed much smaller now.

“And no,” he continued, answering Anur’s question, “There are acolyte dormitories, along with initiate dorms – they stay there. Depending on the response of the rest of the priesthood, that may change. It’s not like we don’t have the room here.”

Anur gave an absent hum to indicate he’d been listening, already poking around the room and checking the furniture. Kir followed his example, idly wondering when the desk had been re-sanded and just why that scorch mark on the wall had never been taken care of. Small, pointless things really. Distractions, at best.

“Huh – private bathing room,” Anur commented, opening the room’s other door and Kir chuckled, “Not quite, another room on the other side has access – two rooms share one privy.”

“Well then, I’ll lay claim to that one and it’ll basically boil down to the same thing,” Anur replied cheerfully, shutting the door before pausing and looking over at Kir with an odd hesitance, “I mean – I could stay over there too, really…”

Kir shook his head, leaning against the desk and saying wryly, “At this point, I think separating would do more harm than good. I certainly wouldn’t sleep soundly. Besides, why mess up two rooms when it’s not necessary?”

It had become a habit, a soothing reminder of how things had changed, to wake up from nightmares, to jolt awake from some half-remembered horror, and just listen to his brother breathe. If occasionally he woke near the midnight hour to find Anur was no longer sprawled in sleep, but lay near motionless in some moody contemplation, then it simply meant that companionship flowed both ways. He didn’t doubt that before this stay in Sunhame was through, they’d find they needed that sort of mute reassurance.

If he were being truly honest, he doubted he’d ever be able to truly rest without Anur at his side anymore. He’d spend the entire time fretting about what idiocy he was getting up to now.

They’d done it occasionally over these years, and the silence was always deafening.

Anur settled against the desk next to him and they stared at the far wall, shoulders pressed together. “So,” Anur finally murmured, “Here we are. In Sunhame.”

“Here we are,” Kir echoed, exhaling slowly. It seemed much more permanent, more of a trap, now that there was a place for them to sleep. Ridiculous, perhaps, but there it was.

“Shall we get our bags from Solaris’ rooms?”

“Yes, let’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> World-building - such fun! Hope the priesthood structure works for you, had a heck of a time figuring it out and trying to slot it in with ML's explanations. Thankfully, most of the references were lay-people until we hit Karal, and then the focus was more on post-Solaris structure and even then only briefly. Let me know either way, please!
> 
> Now more importantly, I've finally finished my survey of the anthology stories featuring Karse and have determined that the following stories are going to be/have already been treated as canon, full-stop:
> 
> “A Brand from the Burning” by Rosemary Edghill and Rebecca Fox, published in No True Way  
> “Vkandis’ Own” by Ben Ohlander, published in Sword of Ice  
> “Sun in Glory” by Mercedes Lackey, published in Sun in Glory
> 
> The other stories concerning Karse within the anthologies are probably going to be treated as canon with the exception of Ohlander’s “Strength and Honor” published in Crossroads (timeline troubles, things from the story will be recrafted so they work because idea is solid, but clearly written before ML had a solid grasp on how Solaris came to power) (or knew previous Son of Sun’s name – in that story, he’s Laskaris)


	7. A Challenge is Issued

Hearing relieved shouts when you return from an evening out was not the most reassuring of welcomes, Devek thought dryly even as he swung down off his horse and looked to the Sunsguard closest to him. “What is all the shouting about, Ensign?”

“A rider came in for you sir, urgent message but it’s not looking good,” the man reported shortly, “He’s in the infirmary, I can take your horse.”

“My thanks,” Devek replied automatically, heading for the infirmary at a run. Everyone already knew what was going on, it wasn’t like he’d cause any more of a panic with his speed.

Entering the infirmary, he immediately honed in on the only occupied cot, their corpsman lurking beside the still figure with a constant litany of curses indicating it wasn’t going well. Hearing him approach, the man looked up with a scowl that, if anything, got fiercer when he was recognized.

“About damn time you got here!” the only other Senior Lieutenant in the unit snapped, jerking his head towards his patient. “Patrol found him staggering towards the walls, horse was nearly foundered. Managed to say he had an urgent message for you before he went out, hasn’t spoken a word since, even when he has seemed lucid.”

Devek sank onto a stool beside the cot, recognizing the man immediately. Lieutenant Jakyr Kalesh had transferred into the 62nd with him and transferred out soon after he had. By the end of their first few moons in that bizarre northward unit they’d been good friends, much less after years of watching each other’s backs and ending up neck deep in conspiracy.

“You know him,” the corpsman’s tone gentled, because as much as he was a caustic ass most of the time, he was a very good medic and somehow managed to retain his compassion.

“We served in the 62nd together,” Devek said blankly, reaching out and touching the knotwork Sun-in-Glory medallion resting on Jakyr’s chest. It was a near twin to the one he wore around his own neck, and he wouldn’t be surprised if every old hand of the 62nd had such a sigil somewhere on their person.

Their priest had made them, after all.

“His packs are on the table there, no one’s gone through them yet,” Gerlach grimaced, “So look through them fast and tell me if there’s any clue as to what in the hells this is, I don’t recognize it at all.”

Devek opened the messenger bag first, finding a heavily notated map and a small notebook filled with cramped shorthand and a carefully folded list of names. Aside from that, there was only a scroll authorizing his actions on patrol in the name of the 42nd Cavalry – with the actionable dates having passed almost a week ago. Jakyr would be on the lists as a deserter by now then.

Unfolding the map, he pulled the oil lamp closer and examined it carefully; the 42nd was stationed in the Morningray Mountains, monitoring the roads to Vieldorf and the logging and mining settlements to the southwest. Jakyr’s patrol route must have been in there, and for him to have come all the way out here, well into the Oakrichs, there were really only a few things that could have driven him this far.

And one of them was written in graphite next to a small town on the far reaches of Jakyr’s possible patrol region.

“ _Bishra_ ,” he muttered, feeling his expression tighten and grow grim. He had gotten a crash course in monsters courtesy the twins and Father Kir, and apparently that knowledge had been dessimated to the rest of the transfers by the time Jakyr left.

“What was that?” Gerlach barked, “You know what this is?”

“I do,” he said grimly, folding the map and tucking it into his vest. “Do you have any sage?”

“Sage?” the man raised an eyebrow, “Of course. He supposed to drink it?”

“However you can give it,” Devek stood, “Incense, tea, whatever you can manage. Drink some yourself too. And burn some sandalwood.”

“I’m not the chaplain,” the corpsman snorted, digging through his kit, “No sandalwood incense in here, that’s another branch of curing.”

“Then I’ll grab some from him,” Devek said shortly, heading for the door, “That’s where I’m going next.”

Not for sandalwood, though he’d grab some while he was there. No, he was hoping that this particular chaplain would be along the lines of the 54th – one that had a backdoor communication line to Sunhame. Solaris had come into power this Midwinter, and if her and Father Kir’s correspondence was any indication, Father Kir was going to be in Sunhame helping her secure her Ascent. If he wasn’t, then at least Her Eminence would know blood mages were in Karse.

He wouldn’t be surprised if these particular blood-mages were _of_ Karse.

Summoners had just lost their most fearsome power, after all. And blood-mages had spawned when cruel men were denied their old avenues of power.

“Father Calais,” he called, unsurprised to find the middle-aged man sitting in the sacristy with a mug of tea and a copy of the Writ. Devek still thought it was more likely he’d swapped covers with some novels so he looked more pious – because the man was _always_ reading the Writ, and while it was an important and occasionally beautiful text, there were only so many times one man could read the same words over and over again without going mad.

“Senior Lieutenant,” the man blinked at him, clearly surprised and apparently his expression was rather forbidding, as he hesitantly continued, “Can I help you…?”

“I certainly hope so,” Devek said, inclining his head slightly and trying to refrain from snapping at the man. He was a good chaplain, and if he hadn’t ever served with Father Kir, he’d find the man a great one, but his standards were a fair bit higher now, and not seeing the chaplain training alongside the men or working with the corpsman after every fight, watching as his robes retained their shine and cleanliness even as their own uniforms grew worn and patched as resupply approached – well. It made for a different experience.

“Do you have a means of communicating with Sunhame promptly?” he asked bluntly, “The messenger that came for me carries reports of blood-magic to the east, and I would have that message relayed as soon as possible.”

“Blood-magic?” Calais raised an eyebrow, closing his book and setting it aside, sounding more confident but his wary expression belied it, “I suppose you consider yourself an expert on such matters?”

“Nowhere near, that is why I need you to call on one such,” Devek refuted, baiting the hook with, “Feel free to use my name and shove off responsibility for the call on me, I simply need a message to get through promptly and I know you priests have means beyond our messengers.”

 _And never make them available unless your politics stand to gain_ , he thought rather uncharitably, and had to consciously remind himself that this was the way of things. That what he had grown used to was a one-in-a-million series of coincidences and he really couldn’t hold the rest of the Sunsguard, the rest of Karse, to that standard.

He’d been reminding himself of that on a near daily basis since he’d begun with the 35th.

Investigations for Father Kir aside, the only reason he’d remained sane was the hope that he’d be promoted to Captain and could move back north again.

Calais gave him a thoughtful once-over before finally nodding slowly and saying, “Very well. What is the message, and who is it for?”

“The message is for Kir Dinesh, First Order Firestarter, and if he is unavailable, Her Eminence Solaris,” Devek said flatly, ignoring the man’s incredulous expression and continuing, “The message is that there are _bishra_ in Almondale, with one present in the 35th and any assistance would be appreciated. My full name is Devek Koshiro, should the message need to go to Her Eminence, mentioning my former association with the 62nd would be advised. Now, do you have any sandalwood incense?”

“Cupboard on the left, be sparing with it – it’s expensive,” the man said shortly, rising to his feet and heading for a separate set of cupboards, pulling out an etched stone bowl and small jars of what Devek would guess were scented oils. Not as simple as the Herald’s mental speaking then; maybe with the Fires redefined at last, in a few generations they could have their own mental communication network across the nation. _That_ would be a talent worth cultivating!

He took three cones of the incense; hopefully it would be enough. Right now they were just stalling it, keeping the creature from spreading. Killing the wretch wasn’t something he felt confident doing; if it were at all possible, he’d wait for an expert.

But if he had to, he’d try.

Jakyr would make an excellent second in command, should they ever go north again.

***===***pagebreak***===*

Kir rubbed at his temples while Anur made some tea; they were the only ones in the kitchen at this late hour, the other Firestarters were all still exhausted from their three days of arguing and had retired soon after their second Sun Descending service together was concluded. He was tired as well, they both were, but they also hadn’t had a moment to themselves the entire day and to go from being almost entirely isolated to being surrounded by people that wanted and even needed to speak to him _all day_ was a major change.

Definitely not an entirely welcome one either.

Anur snickered and slid a mug over to him before throwing himself into the old armchair he’d chosen – they had pulled comfortable chairs out of a storage room across the hall and claimed a tiny end-table in a corner of the kitchen as their new evening lurking spot. By remaining in the kitchen, they were technically making themselves available if anyone needed to find them quickly, after all. And it wasn’t like the chairs were being used for anything else anyway.

“Something amusing?” Kir asked tiredly, raising his mug before taking a sip, “I could use the laugh.”

“Karchanek’s _face_!” Anur gasped, dissolving into half-hysterical laughter that he muffled in his sleeve, sending a mental image – exaggerated slightly, but still remarkably accurate – along with it. Kir snorted into his tea and let out a reluctant laugh of his own.

Karchanek, a powerful Priest-Mage that Solaris had been raised beside and trusted explicitly, had the misfortune of being the first truly blonde individual Riva had caught sight of today. Apparently Aelius’ plan had required Riva literally attempting to _attack_ the first blonde person he saw, as it was such a rare hair color in Karse, Kir not mentioning or knowing about that particular prejudice wouldn’t be considered too suspicious. Aelius, in the meantime, had played up their partnership and followed Riva’s lead, scaring a few decades out of the various stablehands and seriously alarming Karchanek.

But the expression Anur was remembering hadn’t come into play until after Kir and Anur had arrived, summoned by Aelius’ gleeful cackles but telling everyone they were just doing their usual morning check-in with their horses. Smoothing _that_ mess over hadn’t been helped at all by Aelius’ mental chortles and cheers about how wonderfully his plan had gone.

The stablemaster respectfully suggesting they “snip some of that orneriness out of him” had at least silenced that distraction. Unfortunately, Anur’s mental hysterics had more than made up for that newfound quiet.

Needless to say, Karchanek had not been particularly impressed by their claims that Riva had been traumatized by a blonde person sometime in the past – the story had somehow never gotten to the point of details, thank the One God, though they’d need to invent some eventually – and therefore the horse now held a grudge the size of Vkandis’ Image. Aelius’ partnering and near rabid enthusiasm for defending said partner had been brushed aside as a mix between extreme herd-mate devotion and typical stallion orneriness, hence the stablemaster’s well-meaning suggestion.

Shaking his head, Kir finally said, “That is going to come back to bite us, I’m afraid.”

Anur snorted, “What, he’s going to hold a grudge against us because our horses don’t like him? If he’s going to act like that, wouldn’t want to be too close with him anyway. Ridiculous.”

“Well we’re going to have to be. Solaris is probably going to appoint him as one of her Heirophants so soon enough, those meetings we have with her are going to become council sessions, at least some of the time. And he’ll be there,” Kir sighed heavily, “We’re going to have to smooth things over with him.”

Anur scoffed again, shaking his head and saying, “No. If he’s going to be stupid about this and hold a grudge against _us_ because of a mistake made with our _horses_ – a mistake we weren’t even around until it was resolved, mind! – then forget him. We can work with him without getting along particularly well, we’re not going to _apologize_ for something like that. Offer sincere regrets it happened, sure, but we owe him no _debt_ , there’s nothing to _smooth over_.”

Kir just shook his head. While he and Karchanek ran in different circles, and would hopefully _remain_ running in different circles for most of their duties, he had a feeling that this incident was going to at least taint their interactions in the future, if not truly sour. Anur had a point, true, but he didn’t want to create any more difficulties in Sunhame than he already had, and unfortunately Karchanek could prove to be a very big one. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, but it was still a possibility he couldn’t discount.

 _:My apologies,:_ Aelius murmured in their minds, sounding honestly remorseful, _:If I’d realized his rank I would have signaled someone different, but his hair color was so unusual that it really was the perfect chance insofar as insulating you from the backlash.:_

 _:And I understand that, I really do,:_ Kir took a stiff swig of tea and half-heartedly considered digging out a flask of _prodka_ – in his boot, naturally – continuing, _:And if I had thought to tell the stablehands you were testy battlesteeds and to just leave your tending to us, none of this would have been necessary. I slipped up and you covered as best you could – we’ll simply have to deal with any repercussions as they come.:_

 _:I mean, getting into the stablemaster’s good books would be easy enough,:_ Anur smirked over the rim of his mug, _:Up for a little operation, Aelius?:_

 _:Try it and I’ll show you all just how we got the name Hellhorse!:_ Aelius screeched back, panic turning his snarl into something significantly higher pitched, Kir laughing at the Companion’s tone. Anur grinned and continued his teasing, saying, _:Now really, Aelius. No one would ever suspect you of being a White Demon_ then! _This could mean the difference between me and another four days of painful hospitality!:_

 _:Ha! You’re on your own there, Chosen. If it comes down to that, I’m_ out _of here. Kir can save you, I’m sure. Perhaps recruit Kari or Hansa to the cause, but I’ll be halfway to the border by then.:_

 _:Oh, I see where_ I _rate! Right below a good time with a ma - :_

“Your Incandesence!” Kavrick burst into the kitchen and Kir quickly straightened, setting his mug aside and Anur and Aelius immediately stopped teasing each other. “An urgent message relayed from the Sunsguard!”

“By whom?” Kir asked, rising to his feet and spotting a black-robe hovering in the background – a very familiar black-robe at that. “Ah, Brother Loshern. _You_ received a message from the Sunsguard?” he felt entirely justified in his clear skepticism – the man had clearly not had good experiences with the Sunsguard, so having contacts within them that he trusted made no sense.

“Through a friend posted as a chaplain, yes,” the exorcist stepped forward and clapped a hand to Kavrick’s shoulder, sharing a nod with the Firestarter before focusing back on Kir, “I received a scrying call from a year-mate of mine, Calais. He is posted with the 35th and was cornered by the second in command who strongly suggested he use whatever means he had at his disposal to contact Sunhame and get a message to you. Calais passed it along but it’s rather certain he didn’t actually believe it – “

Kir raised an eyebrow and Loshern cut himself off, inhaling slowly before saying, “Apologies. A message for you or Her Eminence if you were unavailable. _Bishra_ are in Almondale, and one victim is within the 35th. Any assistance is appreciated.”

All his tiredness vanished and he heard Anur jump to his feet with a curse, saying, “I’ll grab our gear, you get the horses?”

“No time for that, not if its _bishra_ – and the primary isn’t within the 35th, Almondale would get its name from the crops, and almonds are out in the Morningray foothills for the most part. That means whoever’s caught one of those things has been traveling for at least a day or two, they won’t have much longer. Blast!” Kir kept his more ardent curses behind his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to figure out a way to cut a day-long ride down by at least half.

 _:Kari says he can help,:_ Anur relayed quickly, coming up to stand beside him and the Firecat in question appeared on the counter nearby, leaping into Anur’s ready arms. _:Physical contact is necessary,:_ he relayed again, _:And this may be nauseating.:_

Kir wrapped an arm around Anur’s shoulders and tangled his other hand in Kari’s fur, looking to Kavrick and a clearly awe-struck Loshern and nodding shortly, “My thanks for relaying the message. Kavrick, kindly tell the others I will be back as soon as I can, and if someone could be spared to escort Rodri to the forges tomorrow if we do not make it back in time, that would be appreciated.”

Before they could reply, the world vanished into flames and went silent – the only hums of latent flame he could hear were his own, Anur’s and Kari’s and there was a brief moment of disorienting panic before the flames vanished from his gaze, world snapping back into place but _off_ for a few moments as faint imprints of what he remembered hearing were consumed by what was actually there. Not nauseating, not quite, but he could see how it would be.

Anur apparently felt it, grumbling and looking a little pasty before shaking it off and letting Kari leap down from his arms.

A choking sound drew their eyes to their right – apparently Kari had brought them to the 35th’s chapel and the priest who had relayed the message had caught sight of their arrival from the sacristy door. Nodding to the black-robe, he stepped down from the altar’s dias and asked, “Brother Calais?”

The man nodded, seemingly unable to decide which of the three of them to stare at first.

Rather than try and get further information out of the man, Kir looked to Kari, raising an eyebrow, and the Cat nodded before trotting out of the building. Anur fell into step beside him and murmured, “ _Bishra_ – those were the voice and breath stealers, yes?”

“Precisely,” Kir replied shortly. “As Devek is undoubtedly the one who sent the message, they’ll hopefully have begun isolation and incense based therapies but these ones can be tricky to kill, especially when the source is elsewhere.”

“Right, these are the pack monsters,” Anur made a face, “I now know the hunting patterns for _witach_ fueled monsters better than I know the ones for standard predators. Fantastic.”

“Well really, how often have you needed to track wolves or mountain cats?” Kir smiled wryly, “With our jobs, knowledge of _witach_ ’s brood has actually proven more useful.”

“Which says a lot about our life choices,” Anur said, voice dry.

“Little of it sane,” Kir replied in kind, nodding to Kari, who had stopped at the door to what was hopefully the infirmary, and swept inside. It was practically identical to the 62nd’s, as anticipated, if a little less careworn and patched together around the edges. Seeing two familiar faces in the room only made the resemblance that much stronger.

It didn’t quite feel like coming home, but it was comfortingly familiar.

Anur definitely had a point about their life choices.

“Father Kir!” Koshiro looked up and was clearly startled, but relief seemed to drown out any questions he might have had about their quick arrival. The corpsman had no such restraint however, and yelped as he spotted them, jumping to his feet and whirling to face them, demanding, “How in the – there were no riders coming in!”

“And we didn’t ride,” Kir replied shortly, waving in Kari’s direction, “The Honorable Kari was able to provide transport. When was he last lucid?”

“A little under a mark,” the corpsman replied promptly, jerking his gaze from Kari and regaining some of his composure, “Seems to be coming back out of it though, after this incense treatment started. What exactly is this… _bishra_?”

“Are you familiar with the Witach’s Brood rhyme?” Anur asked, taking over explaining things to the clearly out of his depth but competent corpsman while Kir went to Koshiro’s side and murmured, “Are _you_ all right?”

“Much better now that I don’t have to figure out how to get a message to Sunhame and figure out where you are, sir,” Koshiro smiled ruefully, “Calais was something of a long-shot, but he’s done some rites that seemed a little…enhanced, so I thought there was at least a chance.”

“More than one,” Kir nodded, “His contact was Loshern.”

Koshiro stared at him flatly, saying, “No.”

“Oh yes,” Kir chuckled, looking down at the infected and sighing, sitting down on the stool by the man’s bedside and murmuring, “Lieutenant Jakyr Kalesh. What were you doing to have a _bishra_ latch onto you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, reaching out to rest a hand on the man’s forehead and another over his heart, slipping into mage-sight with the ease of long practice. Inhaling deeply, the scent of sandalwood and sage shifted things, allowing him to focus less on enchantments – of which there were a surprising amount embedded into the building – and more on the man fighting in front of him.

And it was definitely a fight. While the _lothga_ kept its victims unaware of what was truly happening to them, _bishra_ did not. They were hive-minded creatures, the primary commanding the others and drawing strength from those that were brought to it. The very fact that Jakyr had made it this far with that twisted rot that was lurking in his lungs spoke rather eloquently for his determination and mental strength.

As well as his pain tolerance, if the blackened score marks in his lungs’ energy networks were any indication.

Grabbing one of the sandalwood incense cones he quickly broke a piece off and then grabbed a pinch of the dried sage Devek had carefully ringed the burners with. It was good to see his quick lessons on those of Witach’s Brood had been taken to heart – and Koshiro had only had a crash course, much less exposure than those who had gone through the second long winter. Hopefully, no one else would need it, but at least it seemed the knowledge had been retained.

Cupping his hands around incense and herbs, he drew them to his face and exhaled slowly, increasing the heat through his hands and with his breath so they began to smoke. He could have done this with the smoke already available, true, but by igniting it himself, he strengthened his own connection to the rite and at this point, he’d take every aid he could get. This was one of the more dangerous methods of release – _bishra_ were killed when the primary source was destroyed. Forcibly removing the individual creatures from those infected was considerably more dangerous as the things could cause further harm by metaphorically digging in their heels and draw on strength from their brethren to make it even more challenging.

Hopefully distance would minimize that latter possibility, but still.

Anur took the stool across from him and said shortly, “Managed to get a silk scrap, salted and now saturated with incense. Whenever you’re ready Kir.”

Kir nodded, closing his eyes for a moment and sinking deeper into that world half-removed, opening his eyes as he inhaled the sage-scented sandalwood smoke, holding it in his mouth and allowing the ashes to scatter. He could still remember the snickers that had circled the room when this particular expelling method had bene taught – even their master had found it amusing in a juvenile sort of way.

Then he had been taught the medical version again when he insisted on making himself useful to the corpsman before Janner, and it had lost all humor after he’d had to breathe for a man one harsh winter.

Tilting Jakyr’s head back to open his throat, he pinched the man’s nose and waited for him to begin an inhale, quickly placing his mouth over his and exhaling sharply, pushing the scented and blessed smoke into his lungs. Pulling back immediately, he still almost got his nose broken when Jakyr spasmed into coughs, an inky black smoke at first trickling, then pouring out of his mouth and nose, a hair-raising hiss echoing in the room. “Come on, Jakyr,” Devek murmured and Kir could feel Anur tensing, ready to cut off the wretch’s avenue of return the moment Kir gave the signal, but the thing’s core was still within his lungs.

“Come along now, almost there,” he muttered, catching him on his next spasming cough and pulling the lieutenant upright, waving more incense into his face – not exactly the most efficient method, but they needed to finish this before the smoke in his lungs dissipated entirely – before striking him on the back as if he were choking.

That dislodged the core, the final tar-like residue splattering into the salted silk Anur held for just that purpose and Kir quickly flared the edges of the fabric into flame and wrapped it into an orb of swirling orange and white, heat radiating as the smoke of the wraith was pulled in when the creature’s core drew it’s own strength into itself in a vain attempt to escape the fire.

Jakyr was still coughing occasionally, but was breathing and conscious, so Kir kept his focus on the fragment of a monster he was destroying until both his own sense of the creature’s buzz and his half-removed mage-sight registered it dead and gone. Releasing the flames, he blinked a few times as his gaze settled back into the usual perception of the world, sharing a quick, reassuring are-you-all-right, fine-yourself look with Anur before focusing on the misplaced Sunsguard Lieutenant they’d just managed to save.

“Can you breathe deeply for me, Lieutenant?” he asked briskly, the man nodding and giving a weak cough before obeying, lungs seeming to work smoothly again except for the occasional spluttering over the smoke. That would pass with time.

The corpsman was muttering curse-mixed prayers to the Sunlord and Kir felt his lips twitch at a few of the more creative ones. He was sincere, at least, even if his wording left a bit to be desired.

“Jakyr,” Devek sighed in relief, pulling the other man into a quick embrace and shaking his head, “I was worried, you jackass. What in the hells were you thinking, coming all the way here?”

“I was thinking,” the man rolled his eyes, voice raspy from disuse but very much present, “That I had no means to get to Sunhame and by the time I made it there, I’d be listed as a deserter and probably unable to speak, so wouldn’t get heard so much as chucked in the nearest cell for a few weeks, and by then, whatever bastards brought those things into Karse would be well-entrenched or long-gone, both fates that are too good for them.”

“What, and you thought coming to me would help with that?” Koshiro demanded, sitting down on the edge of the cot while Jakyr shifted so he could lean back against the wall. The Lieutenant raised an eyebrow and then waved a hand at Kir and Anur, saying, “Well obviously, I was right. Father Kir, Lieutenant-Enforcer. It is good to see you, sirs. Thank you for coming.”

“We could hardly ignore a message delivered via backdoor scrying channels through an exorcist from one once of the 62nd,” Kir replied dryly, “I’m simply glad we were able to get here in time. You didn’t have much longer before the thing would have taken all the air in your lungs.”

Jakyr grimaced and rubbed at his chest in memory, nodding and saying reluctantly, “I didn’t think I was going to make it anyway, sir. Just wanted to get the message to someone who could pass it on to the appropriate parties. My captain is… decent enough, but not exactly understanding of going any further than the exact letter of your orders.”

“And what is the message?” Kir asked quietly, Kari leaping into Anur’s lap and letting the Herald-Enforcer pet him, Jakyr’s eyes bugging out at the second legend he’d encountered today but managing to reply, “Best if I show you, sir. Got that map, Devek?”

“Right here. And it doesn’t look good, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am about to be a very horrible person, and leave on vacation for the rest of March with no internet or computer. So it will be at least middling-April by the time the next chapters with the coup details get polished up and posted. But I couldn't leave you hanging for literally months between updates...
> 
> So... let the theorizing begin! :) (Here's a hint, this coup? Based on Ohlander's "Strength and Honor" referenced in last chapter's author notes)


	8. Preparations are Made

“A coup,” Anur shook his head as they walked out of the infirmary, Jakyr and Devek already deep in an exchange of news and gossip. The soldiers’ work, for the moment at least, was done. They’d see one or both of them in a few days. “I know you were expecting one, but I still think it’s crazy. _Lightning_ , Kir. And a massive statue and a Firecat and no altar fires needing to be lit this year – why would anyone try and go up against that?”

“Because it’d be easy enough to fake all of that,” Kir shrugged, before correcting, “Well, not the Firecat, but that is such a recent development rumors have probably haven’t even gotten out of the District yet.”

 _:I wouldn’t be so sure of that. The speed of gossip is not to be underestimated,:_ Kari replied dryly, Anur chuckling and relaying it to Kir mentally, his brother rolling his eyes before saying, “Point.”

“A major factor in how quiet it’s been within the District is the simple fact that the Midwinter Re-Igniting is the most attended High Holy Day within Sunhame,” Kir continued to explain as they reached the chapel. “So everyone who is anyone attends – which means most of those who would challenge Solaris personally witnessed her Ascending Miracle – and probably had plenty of time to check with mage-sight for any trickery. After her Ascent, I don’t think anyone dared leave, so they will also have seen the sorts of reforms she’s making and now they’ll have started to hear about Hansa.”

“So then who’s behind this?” Anur asked, waving his hand around in an idly all-encompassing gesture, shutting the door behind them, “If the more powerful ones we weren’t able to check out aren’t behind it.”

“They may very well be supporting it, or even be figureheads of one faction or another, but those doing the work are, most likely, disgruntled summoners who’ve found that their major avenue of power – Fury summoning – is now cut off. They’ll be able to pull in other supporters, both mages and not, but what it boils down to is a group of middling powered individuals who want to be more powerful than they are, fancying themselves terrifying forces of wonder and awe, who have now been told that they are, in fact, not, and they need to go back to the ordinary priestly duties they’ve scorned for so long,” Kir’s tone grew increasingly sour as he went on, and Anur couldn’t blame him. That was not the sort of attitude one expected in a priest – at least not a _good_ one – and with how desperately _happy_ Kir was to perform anything approaching ‘ordinary priestly duties’ he definitely wouldn’t have any sympathy for these idiots.

“Brother Calais,” Kir said abruptly, turning and looking towards the sacristy. Anur was actually surprised to find the other priest still awake. It was some marks after they’d arrived and it’d been rather late when they’d received Loshern’s message.

The man jumped slightly, even though he’d obviously been waiting for them to come back, rising to his feet and staring at Kir with a wry sort of wonder, “So you’re the one I’ve been failing to measure up to.”

“Ah,” Kir gave a soft laugh, “The Senior Lieutenant was not subtle, I take it?”

“Oh he was subtle enough,” Calais waved it off, gaze cutting between the three of them now, apparently still unable to decide who he wanted to keep an eye on the most. Anur found it amusing he measured up to Kari and Kir in that respect – was it because he was an Enforcer, or because he was an unknown soldier? He doubted Calais had Loshern’s attitude towards the Sunsguard, not if he’d been working here as a chaplain for any length of time, but the distrust between the Sunsguard and priesthood Kir had run up against was definitely not only one-way.

“It’s something of a game of mine, you see, to see if I can guess how I compare to the previous chaplain with the transfers,” Calais shrugged, “And so far, I’ve done rather well for myself. I don’t connect with the men particularly well, but I stay out of their way and that seems to be enough. Senior Lieutenant Koshiro is certainly not the first to seek me out outside of mandated encounters to get a feel for me, as it were, but he’s the first where I’ve come out feeling like I was measured against some impossibly high standard.”

 _:Not impossibly high,:_ Anur refuted immediately, wanting to kick the man for that comment. Kir may have never mentioned the fear, but he knew Kir worried about others, about the other Firestarters in particular, comparing themselves to him in some way and finding themselves unable to measure up simply because he’d been living as a treasonous heretic for years.

They hadn’t betrayed the leader of their nation in thought or deed, and while in this case that was morally reprehensible, people shouldn’t feel they were _failures_ for not taking that path.

 _:Fantastically amazing, I’ll grant you,:_ he continued, hoping to prod Kir into viewing this as another amusing sideline than some comment on the example he was setting.

 _:Oh stop with your flattery,:_ Kir retorted, mental voice clearly fond so Anur would take it. _:I’m not that easily guilt-stricken, though I will need to pull Koshiro aside at some point and speak with him, particularly if he wants to continue in the Sunsguard and become a captain himself.:_

 _:All right, I see your point there,:_ Anur admitted, _:Though we’ll have to agree to disagree about your guilt-complex.:_

 _:It’s not a_ complex, _it’s a healthy understanding of my actions’ consequences!:_

 _:Healthy? There is nothing_ healthy _about - :_

“He really shouldn’t have even made the comparison,” Kir said aloud, cutting off Anur’s mental response and while he _could_ continue his rant, and usually would, right now they were both tired enough that crossing their conversations was entirely possible and too risky for any temporary amusement that might be gained.

“Our situations are so far removed from one another – the 62nd was beset with near continuous supply woes with everything from food to medicine to reinforcements, so the needs of the unit quickly outstripped the official and usual duties of the chaplain,” Kir shrugged and summed up his actions with a simple, “So I simply helped where I could.”

“Did you actually fight alongside them? Koshiro has made a few idle comments about the usefulness of being able to defend oneself with steel while I’ve been around,” Calais elaborated, “It is not something that people consider necessary for priests, so I found it interesting he would even bring it up.”

“Of course,” Kir offered a smile and was quick to assure him, “But that was a personal choice on my part – when I was first assigned in the 62nd I had some basic weapons training already and simply continued with it. It wasn’t until recent years that I actually fought alongside them though; I was not trusted _that_ much until they were truly desperate.”

“Yes, I can imagine it would be particularly difficult for one of your Order,” Calais hesitated before finally bowing to them and saying, “I thank you for the discussion, and I would love to speak with you further about your experiences as a chaplain, but it is very late – or early, if you would rather – and while my duties are simple enough, I believe you have far more demanding schedules.”

“I look forward to continuing our discussion,” Kir said honestly, a true smile on his face as he returned the gesture and exchanged farewell blessings with the man, “Perhaps in a few weeks when things in Sunhame have settled again.”

Kari yowled and Anur held his arms out, the cat quickly leaping up into them. He found it rather odd that the Firecat seemed to gravitate towards him rather than Kir, but he wasn’t going to complain. Kari’s fur was incredibly soft and it was more than a little relaxing, especially when they’d been surrounded by the Firestarters all day, to just stroke his fur.

There were occasional moments when the enormity of what he was doing hit him. So much of it just rolled one into the other that he got caught up in the flow of events, didn’t really think about what was going on in any great detail. But when he could pause for a breath, when things caught up with him – well. The gibbering panicked breakdown hadn’t hit yet, but he had a feeling it was coming. If petting Kari helped set that back a few more days, he’d take it.

Kir’s arm settled around his shoulders as his other hand tangled in Kari’s fur, and there were flames all around them. Anur had to close his eyes, he had kept them open the first time and it had only been Kir’s arm around his shoulders and his solid presence in his mind that kept him from freaking out – it wouldn’t have been a full panic, but it still wouldn’t have been pretty. They didn’t feel like Kir’s contained flames, or have any crackling _presence_ to them like real fires did; they just felt like a warm breeze, but visually it was still frightening.

 _:Well,:_ Kari said, Anur opening his eyes and relaxing as he recognized the room he and Kir were sharing, _:If you will excuse me, there is a nightmare I need to go help soothe.:_

“If there is anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to tell me,” Kir said immediately, Kari having apparently spoken directly to him at that point. Eventually, Anur had a feeling Kir was just going to accept that Kari was going to speak to him and just hope that Kari didn’t talk too often. So far, the Cat didn’t seem much of a conversationalist, so at least there was that.

The Cat butted his head against Kir’s hand, still resting on his fur, and purred, saying, _:Brother, you are doing more than enough.:_

“For Solaris, for the nation, maybe,” Kir conceded with a nod, “But for my Firestarters? No, I don’t think I’m doing near enough.”

Kari simply gave him a long look before he vanished from Anur’s arms in another curl of false-breeze flame. The last dregs of tension faded from Anur’s shoulders at that and he gave a happy sigh, “That means we can sleep. Right? Kir, if you say we have to go do something else now – “

His very serious warning was interrupted by Kir’s laughing shove, Kir saying obediently, “We have nothing else to do. We can sleep… for the few marks we have left.”

“A few marks is better than no marks,” Anur said, pulling his boots and armor off while Kir headed for the privy, “And I’ll just keep telling myself that.”

***===***pagebreak***===***

A few marks had been more than enough, and if Kir were the suspicious sort, he’d wonder if Kari or some other well-meaning enchanter had anything to do with just how rested they felt after a mere handful of marks’ sleep. He had plenty of experience with exhaustion and the amount of sleep they’d gotten was that insidious amount where it was enough to keep you moving, but also make your body crave more.

As it was, he took the well-rested feeling as given and gave silent thanks during the Sun Ascending service that morning. He was getting better.

“Your Incandescence – “

“Not you too, Jaina,” Kir interrupted, Anur snickering as they turned to face her. Her forcibly bland expression cracked and a faint trace of the girl he remembered learning alongside showed in her rueful smile.

“I suppose,” she said, “that fourteen years wouldn’t have changed your distaste for titles.”

“Certainly not fourteen years as a chaplain,” he agreed, “Eldest, sister. That is title enough, if you truly must.”

“I must,” Jaina said, inclining her head slightly. “You may not appreciate formalities, but they must be observed. Particularly by me.”

He was about to refute that, when the words caught in his throat and he instead sighed. She was right; at the moment, with only other Firestarters to deal with and Kari and the changing robes to indicate divine favor at his own ascent, it wasn’t a problem. But once it was no longer confined to the Firestarters – which would be any day now, he was certain – those looking for weaknesses would jump on any perceived resentment.

And Jaina, as the one who’d lost the most power, was the one who’d be watched the most carefully.

“See, you haven’t forgotten all of it,” she said with a quiet laugh, “That is something of a relief. I wanted to let you know we’ve been able to get Etrius, Maltin and Rodri away from their minders for the day. When would you care to speak with them?”

“As soon as they arrive,” Kir replied promptly. He had hoped to get the three youngest of the Order out of the way yesterday but there had been difficulties in communication after the Conclave had been not-quite dissolved. “Also, I’m afraid simply assuming that everyone will go along with the reforms is not enough anymore. Our hand has been forced and I must know how far I can trust each member of the Order in that respect.”

Jaina stiffened and her eyes went wide, “How do you plan to answer that question?”

“A truth compulsion,” Kir replied frankly, “Applied individually and privately, so Anur and I will be the only ones to hear their responses.”

“You intend for your Enforcer to be present?” she asked, non-plussed and casting Anur a sidelong glance.

Best to nip that in the bud now. Kir let his expression drop into his once habitual blandly forbidding cast and said shortly, “Anur speaks for me. It would be difficult for him to do so if he did not have access to the same information I did, don’t you agree?”

Jaina looked startled at the sudden shift in tone and glanced between the two of them. Anur gave her a cheerful smile that didn’t carry to his eyes, which only served to unnerve her further if Kir had to guess. “I understand,” she finally said, even though she very clearly didn’t, “And will offer no further challenges in that respect.”

“Thank you,” Kir said with a polite frigidness. “Now, if the acolytes are not here yet, would you care to get the questioning out of the way?”

“Yes, I suppose that would be efficient,” she replied faintly, almost visibly shaking herself back into focus and asking more confidently, “Where would you care to have the conversation?”

“Perhaps the small meeting room off the other corridor?” he suggested, Jaina agreeing as if she’d had a choice and even leading the way.

_:Seemed a little harsh. And this compulsion is actually the truth spell, second stage, I assume?:_

_:I believe she was under the impression she would become my right hand and second, as she is the only other First Order Firestarter. And yes, if that is all right. My apologies I didn’t ask first, it only just occurred to me.:_

_:…She won’t be? And of course.:_

_:Thank you. And she might take that role, within the Order or even within Sunhame. But I wanted it established that she is not to issue you orders – if anything, you are her superior.:_

_:That won’t cause problems down the line?:_

_:If it does, I would not want her in any command position within the Order anyways,:_ Kir said shortly.

If they could not respect Anur, they could leave.

Given, he probably could have timed that dressing-down so that it didn’t take place right before he insulted her intelligence and loyalty by demanding she answer questions under a truth compulsion he hadn’t even offered any details on.

At least the others hadn’t witnessed it. This was going to be bad enough as it was.

_:I don’t suppose Kari is available?:_

_:He is dismayed you thought you even had to ask.:_

By the time the not-quite interrogations were over, Kari’s presence had been much appreciated. Even with the Firecat looking on, he’d needed to provide some dramatic fire effects and exercise his authority as Incendiary five times to keep some from storming out of the room the moment he mentioned a truth compulsion, put out seven fires and actually bind Laskaris to a chair with cords of flame. Thankfully, he’d been impressed enough by that skill – and worried enough about his skin – that he stopped shouting and let them finish the questioning.

“Well, that was enlightening,” Anur said with forced cheer, rubbing at his temples. “At least none of them are actually involved in this coup or even willing to be.”

“I didn’t think they would, none of them seem to have the motivation for it,” Kir snorted, “Somehow we’ve managed to get a Firestarting Order utterly devoid of ambition – and I don’t think it’s solely due to shock.”

He shook his head, leaning against the arm of the chair Anur tossed himself into, feeling rather disbelieving about the whole thing. He had _hoped_ that the Firestarters’ isolation had kept them removed from any political influences that would put them in direct conflict with Solaris, but for there to only be _one_ that professed any disbelief or disdain for her reforms?

And even with Laskaris, who didn’t see how witch-powers could be anything but evidence of wickedness and saw no reason to cease the summoning of Furies – he had no intention to ever _act_ on it. He was perfectly willing to abide by the new rulings, to simply follow them, even though he did not agree at all. It was strange, really. It seemed too easy.

But then he’d thought about it, and it made a sickening sort of sense. So much of the evil in the world was simply because people looked the other way, assumed someone else could deal with it – here in particular. How much of the priesthood’s descent was due to apathy? Was due to priests and priestesses simply shrugging and adjusting to the new rulings without thinking about them, without wondering why – and if they did wonder, if they did question, they never did anything about it. That apathy worked both ways – just as they did not care enough to bring about change, nor did they care enough to stop or challenge the change when it came.

It was a strange thing to witness, because that was how Kir had thought he was, had thought he felt. He had never intended to change the country, to beome a revolutionary, but even when he’d been keeping his head down in the 62nd he’d _acted_ – maybe only where he could get away with it, where he could simply avoid decisions he knew were wrong, turned the other way when adherence to the Rule went against his conscience – but he had still _acted._

“I thought I had been apathetic,” he finally said, Anur snorting and poking him in the side, saying, “Please. You were never _apathetic_ , Kir. If you’d been that you would never have even bothered to think that what you were doing was wrong. You’re mistaking caution, _resignation_ , for apathy.”

“I suppose,” Kir temporized, still finding the dichotomy odd. He’d simply – done what he hoped would allow him to sleep at night without screams echoing in his mind.

Shaking off the strange mood that had overtaken him, he cast a worried look Anur’s way and asked, “How are you doing, by the way?”

“The headache’s not bad,” Anur waved him off and Kir was tempted to let it lie with that but he couldn’t. Not with his brother.

“Good, but aside from that,” Kir replied, knowing he wouldn’t need to elaborate further. Anur noticeably hesitated, clearly thinking it over before relaxing and offering Kir a weary sort of smile.

“I’m doing all right,” Anur said, “It’s – strange. And when I actually remember just where we are I get a little short of breath, but I can manage until this coup is settled for sure. Getting a chance to leave the District will tide me over.”

“If you can’t – you don’t need to stay,” Kir corrected himself, knowing full well Anur was capable of ignoring his own needs and mental distress for long enough to manage Sunhame. But that didn’t mean he should.

Anur laughed and got to his feet, clapping an arm around Kir’s shoulders and pulling him up into a half-embrace, saying, “Of course I don’t! But neither do you, and you’re staying. I’m not leaving Kir, not after all the work we’ve put into this. I’m seeing this through.”

“Besides,” he said after a few moments’ comfortable silence, tilting his head to rest his brow against Kir’s, “Safest place in Karse is standing next to you. Now let’s go, I think we’ve given them long enough to rant and rave at the injustice of our truth spell.”

Kari had happily provided a scapegoat and actually had informed them halfway through the questioning that Firecats had a very similar ability they called the Tell Me True spell – and it was essentially identical to the Heraldic second-stage truth spell, with all the same weaknesses and limitations. Of course by that point Anur and Aelius had been on a roll so had simply finished out the interrogations themselves, but it was useful knowledge to have.

Hopefully, with that excuse in the wings, he’d never actually need to search for the truth compulsion Cristan had found. While it sounded useful, he doubted he’d ever be able to bring himself to even consider actually using it.

“Kari says they’re lurking in the kitchens,” Anur relayed, opening the door into the hall and wincing at the sunlight streaming in from the courtyard.  The room they’d been using had only stained glass windows, so the light had been less harsh on the eyes. “Don’t suppose you brought any of your headache tea with you?”

“Never leave our room without it,” Kir replied, pulling the wax-paper packet out of his belt-pouch; any cutpurses would be very disappointed with the tea and string he kept in there. He’d added pockets to the inner lining of the armored vest he’d claimed soon after his arrival in the 62nd – not that he’d actually had authorization for any such thing – and kept anything approaching real value there. Passing Anur one of the sachets before he put the packet of teas away, he joked, “Between headache tea and _prodka_ , I can cure anything.”

“Or kill it with fire,” Anur teased, bumping shoulders with him as they crossed the courtyard to the kitchen’s side-door.

“But of course,” Kir snorted, noting that through the window, thick-paned though it was, the group looked reasonably calm. He probably had Kari to thank for that – the Cat had left with Fabron, the last of the Firestarters to be questioned. At least they probably wouldn’t be facing steel and fire the moment they walked through the door.

All conversations died when they walked into the room, Kari seeming to preside over the gathering with how he was sitting on one end of the long table. Kir walked over to stand next to the Cat, taking the time to let his gaze drag across attempting-to-be-bland faces that still weren’t quite enough to cover up nervousness. Laskaris, understandably, seemed the most on edge along with Lumira, strangely enough. He’d have to keep an eye on her.

“I cannot apologize for subjecting you to questioning in that manner,” Kir said finally, “Though I can wish it had not been necessary. Given all your answers, I can at least inform you that the coup we all knew was likely has entered the active stages.”

Most of them gained grim expressions to mirror his own, Jaina asking, “And what are we expected to do?”

“Stay out of the way,” Kir replied shortly, shrugging and elaborating, “Should any of you _want_ to assist, that would be appreciated. But my primary concern was that Anur and I will be leaving this afternoon to deal with a problem Loshern brought to our attention, which means we will not necessarily be here when the coup’s in-District branch begins to make active preparations.”

“So you needed to ensure none of us were involved, or planned to become involved,” Colbern grimaced, “And obviously, none of us do.”

“Which is a relief,” Kir nodded and for a moment, he hesitated, not sure if his threat even needed to be stated. But at the same time, they would all assume his threat existed, so perhaps if he actually said it, they would be less paranoid about a strike in the dark for violating some random whim of his?

“And though I doubt this even needs to be said, I would rather have it stated clearly so there is no chance for misunderstandings,” Kir continued, careful to meet every one of the Firestarters’ eyes as he spoke, “If I find that one of you has contrived to act against Solaris, in this coup or in some future endeavor, I will kill you myself.”

“…And on that cheerful note, anyone want tea? I promise, I won’t poison it,” Anur said into the silence that followed Kir’s less-than-friendly declaration, passing Kir two mugs of water, one with the headache tea sachet and one that was simple water, undoubtedly so Kir could add one of his own tea bags to it. Excellent, he’d been craving mint.

“I think we’ll pass, thank you,” Colbern chuckled, Anur shrugging and dropping into a chair. Kir sighed and passed Anur freshly heated tea before finally sitting down himself, pulling out a mint tea sachet for his own mug.

“And here I was, about to accept the offer,” Lumira laughed, pushing back from the table and heading for the cupboards herself. “Laskaris? Fabron?”

“Why not?”

“Where will you be going, then? And who is Loshern – that black-robe friend of yours, Kavrick?” Jaina asked, Kari padding over to her and sprawling in front of her so she could pet him.

“Yes,” Kavrick nodded, “He came to me yesterday evening with a message from some chaplain for Father Kir – something about a _bishra_ in Almondale? That would be linked to the coup somehow, I assume?”

“Indeed,” Kir grimaced, “Which is why we will be going there. The chaplain was for the 35th, in the Oakrich’s, and a lieutenant from the 174th rode in to speak with their Senior Lieutenant – they both served with us in the 62nd. He had recognized the _bishra_ in the first place but was infected himself, so by the time he reached them he hadn’t been able to speak. Thankfully the Senior Lieutenant was able to keep him stable long enough for us to reach them, with Kari’s assistance. As for relating it to the coup – Almondale is too far from Hardorn’s borders for the _bishra_ to reflect that source of blood-magic. I find it more likely that disgruntled priest-mages have turned to blood for power, forming a potential two-pronged attack against Solaris.”

“But you’re going to ride out to Almondale?” Jaina frowned, “May I ask why?”

“Of course you can ask,” Kir replied, unable to resist. She actually rolled her eyes at him, recognizing the same trick their Firestarter mentor had always pulled. At least some of her forced formality was fading.

“There is one thing I didn’t miss,” she grumbled, Kir laughing and not forcing her to ask the question again, instead answering what she’d wanted to ask.

“First, Kari is here for the entire Order, not to ferry Anur and me around the country. Secondly, our horses could use the exercise, and finally – it provides an opportunity for those plotting within the District,” Kir took a sip of his tea before continuing, “I doubt any will directly approach the Firestarters, we’ve never been particularly involved in internal politics as an Order. But once word of my promotion to Incendiary gets out – if it hasn’t already – they will know that I, at least, fully support Solaris. By leaving on horseback, they will mistakenly assume that I am out of reach for a few days at least.”

“Even if they don’t approach us, your absence would give us the opportunity to sound out others without them immediately assuming their answers would reach Solaris,” Seras said, eyes narrowing.

“If you want to take that initiative, I would appreciate it, but I am more concerned in keeping you all out of the crossfire,” Kir replied, wanting them to understand that he wasn’t going to use the Order as a mere extension of his will. He would provide them guidelines, provide them boundaries, but would not force them into confrontations they truly wanted to avoid. Bitter or reluctant help could often be worse than no help at all, and they had enough to worry about.

He also now knew that one of them simply did not agree with Solaris’ reforms. Many of the others had been on the fence, not having a solid opinion just yet, but able to firmly say they had nothing to do with a coup attempt and had no desire to ever be so involved. But acting directly against Solaris wasn’t the only way to express dissatisfaction, just the one he could point to and explicitly forbid without worrying too much about misinterpretations.

Judging by the startled looks and exchanged glances, they hadn’t expected to be free to choose their own battles, to not be used solely to advance his goals. Not surprising, given the usual manner of things in Sunhame, but hopefully something they would come to truly believe he meant.

“There will be time enough for you to go against blood-mages when Ancar makes his move,” Kir continued, “There is no need for you to go out now, so soon after the priesthood and this Order in particular has been turned on its head.”

“And if we want to?” Valerik spoke up, his notably average features contorted into a grimace as he continued, “Being able to sit this out is all well and good, but I would prefer my first acts against blood-mages to not be dependent on some foreigner getting his act together. Besides, we’re familiar with how summoners and other priest-mages work, with how their trained. Going against them would make for a good practice run for combative Firestarting.”

Kir could feel his lips twitching into a smile at Valerik’s disdain for foreigners – it was common enough, but his wording and the fact he was referring to an enemy monarch – well. Anur was fairly radiating amusement, so at least he wasn’t alone in that.

“Valid point,” Colbern inclined his head, “They’ll be conducting their own warped rites, so it won’t be pitting rites against on the fly battle spell-craft, it will be a little more even. Also, they have been taught to view us as threats – psychologically speaking, that could give us an advantage.”

“Or make them all the more vicious,” Tristan pointed out, “But I suppose you would simply find that more entertaining.”

“What form of the rites do you use? Channels, full monologues, any props?” Kir quickly redirected the conversation, a strange tension flaring between the two and their respective allies – because of course it was too much to hope for that the Order was as unified as it seemed on first blush. It was a tension that would quickly draw him in too, if his suspicion as to the origin of Tristan’s bias was accurate.

Kir would be chaplain for the 62nd first and always, with Incendiary a distant third. Being Anur’s brother counted as a job in itself, after all.

“For speed, I think we will all need foci of some sort,” Jaina frowned, “At least until we have a chance for further practice. I use a stave, when I use a focus – which is not often. Usually simply for meditative practice.”

_:How do you meditate with a stave?:_

_:Practicing forms, sparring without an opponent – memorize the steps and moves, and your mind can disengage.:_

_:Ah, I see. Thanks. Easily modified for combat then.:_

_:Hopefully.:_

“I prefer thread,” Lumira spoke up, “And Fabron is most familiar with them, though he’s still dabbling in others.”

Fabron had evidently been her acolyte then, for her to be so familiar with his working style and for him to be so comfortable with her speaking for him. It was unusual, even with an acolyte-mentor relationship to fall back on, for a priest to be comfortable with a priestess speaking for him, or even simply instead of him.

With Solaris in power, that would likely start to change, and about time.

“Quartz,” Laskaris said shortly, “Clearer the better.”

“Tiger’s eye for me,” Henrik said, and similar statements followed. The third order Firestarters stuck with semi-precious stones and thread, both because of the low power requirements and their being relatively inexpensive. It had been the same when he had been told to choose a focus – in order to distract from the fact he’d needed no such thing, he’d chosen string.

It had allowed him to start making knotwork again; Verius, having claimed him for the priesthood in the first place, had likely realized that he was preserving memories of his family that way, but he had never spoken of it. His thirteen-year-old self had clung to that knowledge with a desperate fierceness, and it had gained Verius a staunch defender for some years.

Laskaris was the only one of the second order Firestarters to use something so simple as quartz. Valerik used beads of varying materials, from wood to true gemstones, each one for a separate cantrip and purpose – Kir was curious to see how that actually worked, he’d never seen the man perform an ignition.

Kavrick was another odd one, in that he claimed to use a stave, much like Jaina, but he hesitated afterwards, as if he were considering adding something but refrained. No one seemed much surprised that he _didn’t_ say anything further, but Valerik gave him a sharp look so it seemed he, at least, knew what he had been intending to say.

Kir let it lie though, as he had questioned them enough for one day. He would get it out of the man eventually.

Seras used quotes – from the Writ, from various Rites, from the Rule – even from histories and tales if Colbern’s muttered teasing wasn’t entirely jest. It was startlingly appropriate for the man, who Kir remembered almost constantly either running into or carefully avoiding within the Records Hall when he studied here.

Colbern used a battle-axe. Where exactly he had obtained said battle-axe, and exactly how he had managed to become proficient in the odd weapon’s use, was a mystery. Hopefully, one day Kir would be able to ask the man and get an honest answer, but that was some years away he was sure.

“I don’t suppose anyone besides Colbern has actual weapons training and experience?” Kir asked after briefly mulling over options to get them something approaching combat-ready. He didn’t expect them to fight on the frontlines, but if they were going to go against Ancar’s blood-mages, they needed _something_ – and in all likelihood, if they had any enthusiasm for it at all they’d end up on the frontlines and at the least they’d have a basis to build on.

It was also something that would keep them busy while the priesthood rebuilt itself.

“I get in a lot of bar fights?” Valerik hazarded, Kavrick snorting from his seat next to him and Kir raised an eyebrow. That… was most certainly not expected.

“I go out into Sunhame in plain clothes a lot,” Valerik explained with a shrug, ignoring the disapproving expression on Tristan’s face and the faint sneer on Fabron’s. No one else appeared to notice them, but Kir doubted that was the case; more likely this was simply a long-standing conflict. Tristan could become a problem, combining this with his apparent disdain for Colbern, possibly due to his former occupation as a chaplain. Fabron would bear watching, as he was recently promoted enough that it was entirely possible he was simply mimicking those closest to him in rank.

If he wasn’t, then it was entirely possible he was echoing Lumira’s opinions and just wasn’t as good as she was at concealing emotions. So now he would need to keep an eye on her for that disdain for mingling with the masses.

It was also entirely possible that the two of them simply thought Valerik getting in bar fights was highly inappropriate; which it really was, all things considered, but Kir didn’t have much of a leg to stand on there.

It was only his second full day as Incendiary, and he was already regretting his rejection of Anur’s offer to flee to Jkatha. This was not a good sign.

“Excellent. I need to go to your bars,” Anur muttered, breaking the brief tension and Kir rolled his eyes, saying, “The last thing you need is to get in bar-fights, or need I remind you of the _last_ time that happened?”

“The last time that happened you _told_ me to make a distraction so you could deal with that corrupt circuit judge, and we were in a tavern where people were celebrating a decision he’d made with assistance from some less-than-acceptable bribery. I don’t know what sort of distraction you expected if _not_ a bar fight,” Anur retorted, referring to one of their more successful – if messy – investigations for Solaris’ list.

“Oh starting the fight was fine, even expected, but breaking a platter over that man’s head? Entirely unnecessary.”

“He was fine!”

“We had to flee the town because his friends were literally _chasing us with torches and pitchforks,_ ” Kir shook his head, “I didn’t know that actually happened outside of stories. Pitchforks? They weren’t even a farming settlement! Why were there that many pitchforks?”

“But that was hilarious!” Anur protested, “They were trying to set _you_ on fire – _that_ was their plan? Priceless!”

“We were in plainclothes Anur, they had no idea I was a Firestarter,” he said flatly.

Anur paused, mouth already half-open to retort, before he sat back and thought it over, drinking some tea in the meantime, finally saying, “Point. I forgot that part. But I still found it funny.”

“I know,” Kir said dryly, “I’m the one that was dragging you when you were laughing too hard to run.”

“Oh Sunlord,” Jaina groaned, covering her eyes, “There are _two_ of you. And Valerik. We’re doomed.”

“Please tell me you’ve been keeping records,” Colbern burst, Seras casting his friend a bemused look and asking, “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“You want boring records no one ever actually reads about the minutes of meetings that take too long and obscure references to just who did the repair work on that ugly arch in the gardens,” Colbern waved him off, “ _These_ records would actually be interesting!”

“I have been, yes,” Kir offered a rueful smile, “I was reminded a couple of years ago that our efforts might be of interest to those attempting to trace Solaris’ rise to power.”

“Well I don’t feel half so bad about my own efforts now,” Valerik admitted, some tension Kir hadn’t realized the man was carrying easing from his posture. Apparently he didn’t comfortably sit with his shoulders that precisely square, even though he had been every time Kir saw him until now – good to know for the future. “Given, I had no particular mission that the fights were necessary for, but it provided an opportunity for intelligence and a few circuit judges within Sunhame were helped with the things I overheard.”

“Fighting with weapons is… different,” Kir finally said, “But you’ll have something to build off of. Staves are workable, though I’d prefer you add some steel to that somehow, and as for the rest, knives are the simplest from both a basic defense and supply perspective.”

“I suppose that’s your primary weapon?” Colbern asked, “You carry them all the time.”

“Habit,” Kir shrugged, “And not one I am going to change. Yes, I primarily work with long-knives and daggers; though I have basic experience with a sword and saber, I prefer dual-wielding long-knives. But for the most part, my flames serve as my defense.”

“Are your knives your foci then?” Jaina frowned, “I remember you using string…”

“Ah,” Kir coughed, stalling as he tried to figure out how to explain just what it was he did – and why he had concealed his abilities for so long. “Well, I chose that because I enjoy knotwork and it was an excuse to let me practice. I don’t actually use a focus at all.”

“Does glancing at things count?” Anur asked idly, “You tend to glare at things when you really want them to burn. And occasionaly wave your hand in their general direction or make some gesture, though you don’t really do that in fights.”

“No,” Kir replied, automatically elaborating, “Foci are unique tools to enhance and focus power, they’re not something you use outside of the situation where you need that power.  I look at things or glare without setting them alight all the time, and the gestures I use are not any special forms, they’re simply indicators of direction – they _focus_ what I’m doing, but they’re not unique to my starting fires.”

“Got it, thanks,” Anur smiled, before raising his mug with an impish gleam in his eye, “Speaking of…”

Kir rolled his eyes but nonetheless heated his brother’s tea back to steaming. The man was just going to let it cool to lukewarm again before he drank it, so there was little point besides demonstrating the fact he needed no gestures – and no _flames_ even – in order to do a working.

“…You need no focus?” Jaina asked slowly, brow furrowing, “Your flames build that quickly? I don’t – that doesn’t make sense!”

“Of course it does,” Kir raised an eyebrow at her, holding a hand up and sparking a flame in his palm, having it coil up and weave through his fingers in a messy tangle. “Fire is fire – why should I need complicated gestures and involved practices to warp what comes so easily? I forced myself to learn the techniques Verius taught us because standing out was dangerous, but fire was never outside of my grasp.”

Jaina simply stared at him, and she wasn’t the only one. She was the first to speak though, saying quietly, “I thought you had been holding back – but you were never even in the same class, were you?”

Kir shrugged uncomfortably, releasing the flames and stalling by sipping his mint tea again, finally replying, “I never truly needed the lessons Verius gave us, though they were interesting and helped me gain finer control. I don’t know how much of that I can pass on to you, at least in such a short time-frame, but I hope to try.”

Anur had a contemplative look on his face, but didn’t speak up. He was probably discussing something with Aelius or at the least musing over some knowledge that wouldn’t be believable coming from a Karsite Lieutenant-Enforcer. It would have to wait, then.

“Well then, where should we start?”

***===***pagebreak***===***

Anur only kept half his attention on the conversational debate that broke out between the Firestarters. Colbern was advocating an immediate start to weapons training, while some of the others, including Seras, seemed to be far more interested in potentially enhancing their Firestarting. Kir was simply drinking his tea and watching them talk it out, though he’d undoubtedly come up with his own ideas by now and was just seeing if anyone had something better.

The weapons-work was more urgent and more likely to actually produce results, so Anur was definitely firmly on Colbern’s side in this – but his reasoning needed some work.

Oh it made perfect sense, but the presentation could be a problem. Admitting to knowing the difference between a witch-power and mage-craft, and then to even knowing that a witch-power involving flames existed – well, it would have been problematic even without the new knowledge that at least one of the Firestarters still viewed witch-powers as signs of wickedness.

 _:Chosen – you’re calling them witch-powers,:_ Aelius pointed out, voice warmly amused nonetheless and Anur paused, working through his thoughts before mentally snorting. Aelius was right, of course, and it was probably a good habit to have since he was living in Karse and now living in Sunhame, but still.

_:Any ideas? I thought Kir had realized that he had a Gift, like Griffon, and enhanced it with mage-power, but if he thinks he can teach these Firestarters his techniques…:_

_:I think he knows it, but doesn’t quite_ know _it, if that makes any sense. He’s obviously aware that what he does is_ different _from everyone else here, but perhaps not to the extent that it’s not just a different perspective on fire and flame, it’s a different source of power entirely.:_

 _:That follows – it’s not like we’ve spent much time worrying about technicalities of Firestarting or teaching others,:_ Anur said ruefully, taking a sip of his tea and restraining the urge to make a face. It was far too hot again, but he’d wanted to provide Kir with a convenient demonstration of his techniques and something of a springboard, so he’d just have to suffer through too-hot tea.

He’d just pretend he’d stolen it from Kir, who always drank his tea near-scalding. That would make it easier to ignore.

 _:Kir, what are we doing with the acolytes?:_ Anur asked, dragging his brother into the conversation. It wasn’t like there were any new ideas coming up in the Firestarters’ discussion, so there was no need for him to simply sit and watch.

_:I really just want to introduce myself and ensure they actually want to be within the Firestarting Order, even with our changed duties. Also, I think it might be useful to have them move into the Hall itself – particularly if we have a coup coming.:_

_:It would probably be more secure, true,:_ Anur agreed, _:Well that shouldn’t take very long then.:_

_:Hopefully not – I would like to see Axeli again, after all.:_

_:So, act like nothing has changed.:_

_:Precisely. Ideally, we can simply ride out this afternoon and pass it off as a habit of ours to go out for rides every few days.:_

_:…Can we make that a habit?:_

_:Of course.:_

Kari’s voice entered the conversation then, saying, _:I believe the acolytes have assembled in the library.:_

Anur quickly relayed that to Kir, who inclined his head slightly and sent a wordless thread of gratitude in response before rising to his feet and saying, “Seras and Kavrick, you are the mentors for our two acolytes?”

“Indeed,” Seras looked up, startled, “You want us there?”

“An introduction would be appropriate,” he replied dryly, Anur hiding a smile in his mug. Kir undoubtedly realized that with their recent interrogations, any mentor worth their name would be worried about the two of them questioning their students. Concerns about pressuring the acolytes into staying against their will could be addressed later, if they even needed to be.

Seras and Kavrick didn’t question it further and led the way to the record’s hall, eager to see their students. Probably also eager to give them some warning as far as their new leader went.

_:So this discussion, then head to the forges?:_

_:We need to alert Solaris to the situation first.:_

_:…I forgot about that.:_

_:I did too – a comment Henrik made reminded me,:_ Kir’s mental voice was swamped with rueful amusement, _:We’re a little too used to working alone, I think.:_

_:At least with Hansa and Kari, should we need it, we can deliver near instantaneous updates. I’ll be honest, that message delivery speed is the thing I miss most about Valdemar.:_

_:Not that we’ve had messages to deliver until now,:_ Kir pointed out, _:Delays and slow messages have worked to our advantage for years.:_

 _:True. Why isn’t scrying more utilized then? What Calais did? It’d be dead useful, we’re evidence enough of that,:_ Anur asked, genuinely curious. One of Valdemar’s biggest advantages was relatively instantaneous communication between the capital and anywhere else with the right Herald-Companion pair. Between Fetching and Mindspeech, they could handle all sorts of emergency communications.

 _:It’s not as… easy, as Mindspeech,:_ Kir’s hesitation before the word easy was heavy with a wry sort of irony. Mindspeech wasn’t easy, not for him, and while Anur fairly burned with curiousity about what could have traumatized him so badly – given where they were, the possibilities he could think of were all horrific enough he was somewhat relieved he _didn’t_ know.

Because every time he thought nothing more could startle him, could make him cringe, he learned of some new absently accepted atrocity.

The fact that those discoveries were matched, if not surpassed, by things he’d never have imagined finding comforting, becoming fond of – it meant he’d never come to regret the somewhat spontaneous decision of his to join the Sunsguard.

 _:We’ll see if that attitude holds when this all gets out northwards,:_ Aelius commented dryly, _:We’re getting deeper into this mess of confidentiality every day.:_

 _:We can probably work out_ something _to send northwards,:_ Anur said doubtfully, following Kir into the record’s hall and shutting the door behind them.

 _:Back with us?:_ Kir asked dryly and Anur shot him a sheepish look, saying, _:Apologies. Got distracted.:_

 _:I wouldn’t worry about it,:_ Kir’s voice was clearly amused even though his expression was bland, _:I get distracted just as easily on occasion. We’ll discuss scrying later.:_

 _:I do not get distracted easily!:_ Anur said indignantly, that indignation only growing at the amused and doubtful silence from his two mental links.

 _:Oh, you two are conspiring against me now? I should never have encouraged you two to speak without me as a middleman,:_ Anur grumbled, Aelius and Kir both laughing at him and he suppressed a smile.

Occasionally where he was struck him and he had to lock down on a surge of panic. But just as often, there were moments like this when who his best friend and brother was hit him and everything just seemed so much _brighter_.

Because if a Herald and a Firestarter could call each other brother, could call each other friend, after hundreds of years of enmity – what else could change?

“Father Kir!” Rodri was clearly delighted to see them again, turning his smile to Anur and greeting, “Lieutenant-Enforcer, it’s good to see you again. Can we still go to the forges today?”

Kir nodded, a small smile on his face and from the bemused wonder Anur could sense, the fact that anyone within the District would be genuinely _pleased_ to see him, with no underlying wariness or fear was incredible to him.

One day, Anur vowed, Kir would no longer be stunned when someone smiled at him, when they failed to shy away from his robes or his title.

One day, Anur would see his brother minister a wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort-of-filler, but this chapter got a lot longer than I anticipated so... two chapters instead! Now to polish up the second half... hope this part was at least worth the wait!


	9. Crafting a Response

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story - I finished and edited this last week, thought I'd posted it, and came home and was very very sad to see that there were no comments in my inbox (I've ruined it! Everyone hates it! They're never going to read my story again! Ahh!)
> 
> And then I realized I forgot to post the chapter I was so worried about in the first place.
> 
> Awkward.

The introductions with the acolytes and Rodri went smoothly – apparently the initiate had told them about their encounter two days ago and possibly the _lothga_ story, which had earned himself and Anur some automatic respect and leeway aside from their titles. It was good to see that the older two felt some responsibility and protectiveness for Rodri. It was a far cry from Kir’s memories as an initiate working with acolytes.

There had been little active maliciousness aside from a few isolated incidents, but absent and unintentional cruelty could scar just as badly. There were _reasons_ he had sought an excuse to leave the district so eagerly, and his age-mates, all scared stiff of him, hadn’t been the main one.

The acolytes’ reactions – and a somewhat subtle reassurance he wasn’t going to be forcing any truth compulsions on them – were enough to placate Seras and Kavrick to the point they left, after reassuring their students they were indeed all right. Apparently entering an emergency Conclave and going into lockdown had alarmed them.

Who would have thought?

“How far back will the reforms set us?” Etrius, Seras’ scholar, asked, corners of his eyes already starting to crease from reading in poor lighting.

“To recraft the Charter I believe we will have to start at the beginning and work forward as situations arise,” Kir replied, unsurprised that someone who purportedly joined their Order for their historical records would understand how much of their Order’s practices had been scrapped by recent announcements.

“That is going to take some time,” Etrius commented doubtfully, before his eyes widened and he added hastily, “All due respect, Your Incandescence.”

“Hearing that title is _never_ going to get old,” Anur managed to refrain from snickering aloud at least. His mental cackles were distracting enough.

Kir sighed and said dryly, “I would prefer as few titles as possible – Eldest will be more than enough within the Order. I will be hearing the more formal addresses soon enough.”

“Of course Eldest,” Etrius agreed immediately, the other two nodding though Rodri was a little hesitant.

Guessing at the source of that, he gave Rodri a small smile and said, “Simply calling me Father Kir would be even more preferable, but I understand that formality is a comfort to some.”

Judging by Rodri’s smile, he had guessed accurately. It was strange to see the boy so expressive – Kir had only really seen him those few marks after the _lothga,_ so it was entirely possible this was his usual personality when not traumatized, but seeing him so expressive within the District, especially after being here a few years, was startling. Certainly not a bad thing, but a surprise.

He suspected he had the two acolytes sitting before him to thank for that.

“As for restructuring the Charter,” Kir returned his attention to Etrius, leaning back in the armchair he’d claimed for the discussion, “Taking our time would be to our advantage, particularly as I doubt the reforms are through, though those to come will be less drastic in how they affect us.”

_:Until we get to Valdemar.:_

_:Well yes but that will dramatically affect everyone – while this announcement did the same, it more significantly affected us. Besides, Heralds are never actually mentioned in any of the Charters directly, so that announcement won’t require a redraft.:_

“So long as everyone applies some common sense in extending Solaris’ explicitly announced reforms, there won’t be any difficulties,” Anur spoke up, shrugging and taking a sip of his once-again lukewarm tea. “Given, common sense can be rather rare, but self-preservation is a powerful motivator. Anyone pursuing those witch-powered will face severe consequences now that they are no longer considered wicked. We need a name besides witch-power by the way.”

“We’ll work on it,” Kir said dryly, “Later. Now, besides simply introducing ourselves, there were a few things I wanted to clarify with you three in particular.”

He waited a moment for them to focus on him again before saying seriously, “The practice of bidding within the priesthood is going to be reworked, and no one will be taken unwillingly for the priesthood any longer. As you have taken no vows, should you wish it, we can arrange for you to leave the priesthood entirely or simply this Order. I am well aware of Rodri’s trouble two days ago and you have to know that while those of us already ordained will work to rebuild our reputation, you will all face judgment for acts you have never committed. Our uniforms set us apart and make us easy targets for rage against the priesthood’s now anathema practices, even those were not responsible for.”

“You are referring to Fury summoning,” Maltin spoke up at last, voice naturally quiet in something of a startling contrast to his more strident mentor.

“Amongst others, but that is the main one we’ll be wrongly held responsible for, yes,” Kir nodded, feeling suddenly weary. Actually explaining the troubles their Order would face for years to come made them seem far more challenging and immediate than when he simply knew what they were facing.

“Because not all black-robes are summoners, they can simply blend in,” Etrius elaborated, grim-faced, “While we cannot.”

“You still can,” Kir corrected.

The brief withering look Etrius cast his way before realizing who he was near-glaring at was refreshingly frank. His spoken reply was more controlled in tone but Kir could still hear the underlying rebuke – this one would be worth watching simply for entertainment.

“I put a lot of work into getting restricted access to these Archives. I’m not about to leave now that I’m only a few years away from having full access,” he said, Kir feeling his mouth twitch into a smile as he replied, “Understood. This records’ hall is one of the few things I truly missed about Sunhame.”

“There are still _lothga_ ,” Rodri said simply, giving a tired shrug far too old for him, “I’m staying.”

“As am I,” Maltin said shortly, providing no explanation.

“Very well,” Kir said, inclining his head slightly, “Then have there been any troubles regarding your Order aside from what Rodri experienced day before yesterday?”

Etrius gave a sharp smile as he replied, “For myself, none at all, Eldest. Though I did assist Maltin with some difficulties, they were resolved easily enough.”

He needed that one working with him. Desperately.

 _:I like him,:_ Anur said, evidently agreeing, _:He reminds me of you.:_

_:I was – well, all right. By the time I was his age, I was probably worse. I had no one to directly protect.:_

_:You were with the 62nd by then?:_

_:Yes, and for at least a year – I believe Etrius is seventeen.:_

“Maltin?” Kir asked, raising an eyebrow at the other acolyte, “Is the situation truly resolved or will it simply fester?”

“It will come up again,” Maltin gave a fatalistic shrug that Kir hated to see on one so young, “It is not the first time.”

Maltin was sixteen if he was a day, and at that age Kir had been just as resigned, but that by no means made it _acceptable_ for one now under his protection to be the same.

“His dorm mates are less than friendly,” Rodri said delicately, “Mine are scared stiff of me, but Maltin’s were wealthy coming in and they’ve never let anyone forget it.”

 _:You know, there is a coup coming up - :_ Anur suggested, tone half-joking at the beginning but quickly losing all amusement at Maltin’s suppressed flinch when Rodri finished explaining.

 _:We are not accidenting acolytes, however tempting it may be,:_ Kir said sternly. And if some of that tone was an effort to convince himself of the same thing, well –

These three were _his_ now. And he had always been rather vicious in defense of those he came to consider his. That Anur was similarly inclined simply spoke to how well they matched despite their different origins and outlooks.

 _:Kari?:_ Kir directed the query to Anur and the Herald had hardly sent back a wordless confirmation when the Cat appeared sitting at Kir’s feet.

“Should there be further problems, mentally calling for Kari will bring assistance as quickly as possible,” Kir said, “Honored Kari, the three youngest of our Order. Etrius, under Seras, Maltin, under Kavrick, and Rodri, our initiate.”

All three were clearly awestruck and Kir took heart in their expressions, allowing them a moment for Kari to speak to each of them before continuing.

“And if dorm mates are the problem,” Kir gave a deceptively casual shrug and waved a hand idly, “There are more than enough rooms here, should any of you wish to move to the Hall. You are a part of the Order, and this Hall was meant to shelter all of Ari’s Folk, not merely those who’ve sworn formal vows of ordination.”

“Are you serious?” Maltin burst, immediately looking horrified at his outburst but Kir simply smiled and said, “Yes. I would request you three chose rooms close to one another and obviously only those currently unoccupied, but other than that, feel free.”

“…Can we move our things now?” Rodri asked hopefully.

“That is all I have to speak with you about for now,” Kir said, “So unless any of you three have questions for us, you can go right ahead.”

“I have nothing that cannot wait,” Etrius shrugged, before narrowing his eyes and saying, “So long as you can honestly say you’ve been keeping records, Eldest.”

Kir didn’t bother to suppress his snort and Anur chuckled while he said, “As I’ve reassured your mentor, yes, I have been keeping records.”

_:Myste is still more terrifying.:_

_:Wait until you meet the priesthood’s main archivists.:_

“And Rodri, for the forges, shall we leave in a mark?” Kir suggested, the initiate brightening and agreeing immediately before bowing and darting of, undoubtedly to collect his belongings and find a room.

“I must thank both of you for looking after him,” Kir said to the acolytes while they stood, “An initiate already selected is seldom welcomed by those elder.”

Etrius tilted his head to the side curiously before finally nodding and bowing at the waist, “You are most welcome, Incendiary.”

Maltin echoed the gesture and murmured a similar response before following Etrius out. The moment they heard the door shut behind them Anur looked over with a raised eyebrow, “Shall I follow?”

“Maltin in particular,” Kir agreed, getting to his feet, “Kari, if you could keep an ear out for them?”

“He says of course,” Anur relayed, standing and draining the last of his tea before setting the mug on a small woven mat on the side-table meant for just that purpose. They could come and collect their mugs to clean later. Right now Kir didn’t want the acolytes to get too far ahead of them.

“I almost hope there is trouble,” Anur said as they walked briskly down the corridor, no other Firestarters in sight.

“You would,” Kir said, amused, “I almost feel sorry for anyone who bothers them.”

“No you don’t,” Anur scoffed, “You’re just jealous that _you_ have to report to Solaris while _I_ get to torment some arrogant brats.”

“Save some for me,” Kir finally requested as they exited the Hall entirely, Anur only laughing before clapping him on the shoulder and saying cheerfully, “But of course!”

Kir watched him amble away across flagstone and gravel before shaking his head. Presumably Kari, though remaining within the Hall, was providing directions of some sort. Otherwise he’d probably be calling on Kir to direct him – for a radially arrayed circular sector, the District was still rather confusing to navigate.

So if he paid a little more attention to the cheerful hum of Anur’s mind against his own, it had everything to do with worries his brother would end up wandering aimlessly for marks and nothing at all to do with trusting only one other person in this District as far as he could throw them.

And he was heading to meet with her now.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Anur felt a little anxious about wandering through the District of the Heralds’ most vicious enemies (though Ancar was a close runner up by now), but he knew how to act when he felt isolated and at risk even though everyone expected him to feel welcomed and at home.

Kris had not been the most vicious of Dirk’s avengers, only the most reasonable.

So he strolled – a deceptively slow looking gait that covered a lot of ground – head high, nodding to the few who met his eyes with a slight smile on his face. Kari had murmured quick directions into his mind, but he’d hardly needed them. After a few moments walking he’d been able to see the two acolytes himself. They were sticking to broad, open and well-traveled paths, and didn’t try to take any of the shortcuts Kari had briefly referenced.

Him being nervous, being cautious, made sense, even if he were truly a simple Karsite Enforcer freshly come to the District as a result of revolution. But two acolytes, practically raised here, should feel at home. Should feel safe – or at least confident enough to take shortcuts!

Humming one of the many Karsite drinking songs he’d learned over the years – some Kir and the twins had taught him had intentionally similar tunes to common hymns, hilariously enough – he snapped one of the throwing knives he kept at his wrists into his palm and started tossing it around with his right hand, letting his left linger in his pocket in a gesture that looked casual but was anything but. He could get his long-knife drawn in moments from that position.

He’d never been one to play around with knives until he’d started exploring uses of his Fetching Gift in combat. Then he’d realized even without using his Gift, it was good dexterity practice and kept him alert and focused.

It also, he smiled and nodded at a wide-eyed red-robe priest, unnerved people. And as he had learned, unnerved people were far easier to barrel through and shove aside. Loshern had been the one to firmly set that particular trick in his mind.

Kir had started calling the combination he’d worked up his homicidal maniac trick. Anur didn’t think his friend had a leg to stand on, with how often he’d given a frigid little smile and sent priests and officers scrambling over themselves to do whatever Kir wanted. While Kir didn’t _like_ the reputation Firestarters had, they’d definitely taken advantage of it when there was no other choice. Hopefully that was behind them now, and they could focus on rehabilitating the Order’s reputation rather than reinforcing it.

Well – unless that reputation was necessary to make some arrogant brats leave their acolytes alone. Besides, Firestarters were still going to police the priesthood. A little fear from them was probably inevitable and, with the revolution so fresh, healthy. If any Firestarters were truly visible during putting down this coup, it would only bring that message home.

Kir was going to be involved, so effectiveness was not even in question.

Ah – Etrius and Maltin had separated to different buildings. Such a strange layout, you’d think they would put all the acolytes that didn’t warrant quarters with their mentors in one place, but instead they were scattered across the District in whatever random areas they could be shoved into. They were trusted enough to not be jammed into one tiny sequestered area like the initiates were, but not valued enough to have their own quarters or even semi-private rooms.

Really, it was no wonder all three of them were so eager to move.

He’d leave Etrius to his own devices for the moment; the young man seemed quite confident in his own ability to cope with any prejudice he might run into. Maltin’s professed difficulties – and long standing ones at that – were more worrying.

He would have to ask Kavrick why he’d never intervened – after consulting with Kir. Kavrick’s hands-off policy might be some custom he’d be expected to know.

If it was, he doubted Kir would let it stand for long. As occasionally overprotective of _him_ Kir got, he didn’t doubt that these much younger and more vulnerable Firestarters were going to be defended just as fiercely.

Anur used a trick Aelius had told him about one evening when he’d pestered his Companion for just how he knew about extending mental shields for espionage purposes. No answers as to the origins, but plenty of other potentially useful techniques. This one let him get a general sense for the mental state of a crowd – in this case, Maltin and those near him. If anyone had a spike of some sort, he would know. He wouldn’t really know what it was, he was no empath, but he would know something was up.

He didn’t like to use it often though; it was devilishly hard to narrow things down enough that he wasn’t swamped with information but still keep it broad enough to be useful. He’d already had something of a headache from such extensive use of the Truth Spell on mostly hostile targets – holding this for too long would undo all the good Kir’s fantastic tea had done.

It was no trouble at all to keep it up for a short time though, even while he continued strolling so he didn’t look like he was stalking Maltin. After passing the building, he turned down a narrower path and weaved his way through the hedges and garden rows to approach the dormitories from another direction. It wouldn’t do to have the brats think he was _following_ Maltin as a _protector_ after all. Then they would just lie in wait to ambush him when he was alone.

He had been riding in Companion’s Field when Talia had gone under the ice her first winter. Something like that wasn’t going to happen here. Not on _his_ watch.

“Well if it isn’t His Honored Cauterizer,” an unfamiliar voice, but a far too familiar tone. Nobles being snotty brats to those they viewed as lesser transcended language barriers; who’d have thought?

A mental spike, probably from Maltin, but there was no verbal response. Anur looked around, careful to keep his movements casual, his gaze idle, finally spotting the open doorway that was probably letting the voices escape. Initially he had hoped the confrontation would be one he could believably stumble across, but it seemed he’d have to go with the second option.

But first, he’d let the boys dig themselves in a deeper hole. It wouldn’t take very long.

He quit humming but kept his knife in hand, though he stopped tossing it. It wouldn’t do for a flash of steel in the sun to draw attention to him and give away his approach after all.

“Packing up already?” a different voice taunted as he neared the door, just close enough to start to make out who was inside the room. “What, too ashamed to show your face in the District after what you’ve done? Heading off to be a useless vagrant somewhere?”

“Now show some respect,” the first voice chided mockingly; he looked chillingly like Kris with darker skin and a slightly harsher nose. Too attractive for his own good, but with none of the personality to match; he reached out and forcefully clapped Maltin on the shoulder, white knuckles indicating a probably bruising grip. Maltin stumbled a bit at the sudden blow but managed to brace himself against the edge of his bed and jerked away from the taller boy. “Surely our little cinder has learned _something_ here; he could certainly find a job as a sell-boy, though he’d have to be pretty cheap, his looks aren’t anything special.”

 _:Aelius, kindly inform Kir that I’ll need some assistance in disposing of the bodies,:_ Anur said with a manic sort of calm, stepping into the room with a smile that he knew had too many teeth and didn’t carry to his eyes, knife flying from his hand to slam into the Kris-lookalike’s bicep. He’d be fine.

“Well I’ve certainly heard enough,” he said brightly, casting his other wrist-blade to slam into the wall next to the other speaker’s head, quivering ominously. The cries from the first one were annoying enough, he didn’t want to have to listen to _both_ the brats whining about no more than they deserved. “To think, Kir and I thought we were being rather ridiculous, coming by to collect you three on our way back from Her Eminence. I’m ever so glad we did though, why – just think. If I hadn’t swung by to find you, I may have never met these charming fellows.”

Fake-Kris was gasping, clutching at his bleeding arm but he didn’t pull the blade out. Not a complete idiot then. Good.

“Did I say you two could leave?” Anur barked over his shoulder, the two silent observers freezing and looking terrified as he glowered at them. He gave them his most fearsome glare for a moment before abruptly switching gears and beaming at them, affecting an only lightly chiding tone as he continued, “Now really, leaving without even introducing yourselves? Quite rude, quite rude. I’m sure your mentors would be ashamed. Now, I _did_ barge in without providing my own name, so allow me to rectify that. I am Anur Bellamy, Enforcer to His Incandescence, Incendiary Kir Dinesh – “

 _:Voice of Her Eminence, Solaris,:_ Kir’s voice slipped in and he smoothly added the title to his introductory spiel, concluding with a toothy grin that could loosely be called something approaching friendly. If one had attempted to drink Kir under the table first.

He raised an eyebrow when they continued to simply stare at him while their friend Fake-Kris whimpered, and crossed his arms, “Now it’s your turn to introduce yourselves,” he said slowly, as though he were talking to a particularly stupid idiot.

Which, surprise, he was. Some days, he could pick out appropriate audiences.

“Is this truly necessary, Lieutenant-Enforcer?” Maltin spoke up, naturally quiet voice impressively dry. Possibly he was unaffected by their taunts, though unlikely. More likely was the scenario where he’d been exposed to this long enough he’d come to ignore them – because he realized they were worthless idiots or because he had simply become tired of listening was a different question. Also possible was the scenario where he was so damned used to this sort of disgusting verbiage, and so damned used to _covering it up_ , that he could brush it aside with a blank smile at a moment’s notice.

Either way, it meant he had been dealing with this for too long and Fake-Kris deserved to have that knife twisted a bit.

Oh, what would you know. It twisted a bit in his hands – must have been gripping it oddly, silly boy. It wasn’t as if anyone here had a Fetching Gift.

 _:Chosen, you need to stop,:_ Aelius finally spoke up, though he sounded faintly regretful, _:You are verging on cruelty.:_

_:I have long passed merely verging on cruelty, Aelius.:_

_:You are verging on cruelty I cannot stand by and allow,:_ Aelius corrected, _:Leave the knife be at least.:_

_:But I can continue my verbal flaying?:_

_:Flay away, Chosen.:_

_:Excellent.:_

“But of course it is!” Anur cried, turning back to him with an indignant expression, “As Enforcer for the new Incendiary, it is my _duty_ to get to know all the members of the Order! And what better way to get to know someone than to speak with those close to them? After all, you all live together, and are all brothers in the Sunlord, are you not?” Anur let his gaze – face still locked in a mocking, toothy grin – sweep the four trembling idiots. Maltin still looked entirely composed, and the mental spike had subsided within moments of Anur bursting through the door like a steel-spewing spirit of wrath.

“Ah yes, acolytes’ interpretation of the Kin of Vkandis,” Kir stepped into the room, giving the two acolytes pressed against the wall near the door a dismissive glance as he continued, “Remind me to tell you about the time one of my acolyte brothers decided to see how well a Firestarter did in ice one particularly cold winter. Acolyte Maltin, are you all right?”

“Perfectly fine, Eldest,” Maltin replied, having finished packing his bag while Anur ranted and now hefting it over his shoulder, “I apologize for interrupting your meeting.”

“There was no interruption,” a feminine voice replied for him, Kir stepping aside and inclining his head towards Solaris, who stepped through the doorway with a small smile that _did_ carry to her eyes and which widened slightly as all the acolytes gasped and dropped to their knees. “We are perfectly capable of walking rather briskly and discussing matters at the same time, though your consideration is appreciated, Acolyte Maltin.”

“So, where do we dispose of bodies in the District?” Anur asked, knowing it was abrupt and knowing very well they would never actually be killing these four imbeciles, but if what they had implied was even _close_ to the truth, they more than deserved to have some serious fear instilled in them. Perhaps it would make them reconsider their life choices.

“Depends, are they publically executed or are we going for something more subtle?” Kir raised an eyebrow at him and very clearly wondering just what had been said to make him so lividly angry but he played along nonetheless. “My personal favorite is simply burning them to ash and dumping the ash in one of the braziers. Blends right in with the embers, particularly if you split it up carefully.”

“Should work nicely,” Anur nodded, throwing out a hand in Fake-Kris’ direction and saying, “I’ll take that one.”

“You are _not_ killing any acolytes,” Solaris said, voice stern.

“Considering the fact they belittled and insulted Acolyte Maltin, implying that should he leave the priesthood the only trade he could pick up would be that of a cheap prostitute, a profession for which he should have _learned something_ in the past years, I would ask that you reconsider that stance, Your Eminence,” Anur said, the sudden pulse of heat and visible shimmer radiating from Kir a sharp contrast to his own frigid tones.

“On second thought,” Kir said with careful deliberation, “I doubt anyone would miss them that much.”

Solaris’ own gaze sharpened and she examined the kneeling acolytes with a considering air, before finally saying, “An investigation shall be conducted. But there will be no killing of acolytes. You four will remain here, in isolation, until I can speak with your mentors. Kir, Anur, kindly escort Acolyte Maltin to the Hall as was planned, and we can continue our discussion some other time. As always, I trust in your judgment, brother.”

“As you say, sister,” Kir murmured, heat fading away but the furious gleam in his eyes showing how very close to the surface those flames waited. “Acolyte Maltin, if you have your things?”

“Yes Eldest,” Maltin gasped, grabbing his bag and quickly reaching Kir’s side. Anur turned to the trembling Fake-Kris and didn’t bother with a mocking smile, keeping his expression cool as he held out a hand, saying, “I do believe you have something of mine. Hand it over.”

With a shaking hand, the young man pulled the blade out of his arm and handed it over, flinching away rather dramatically when Anur’s hand brushed his as he took the knife. Snorting, Anur left him to clamp his hand over the wound; it had hit nothing vital, the bleeding would slow soon enough and they’d have learned at least the basics of first-aid by now, he was sure.

Raising an eyebrow at the other boy he’d tossed a blade at, he was smugly satisfied when the brat paled and scrambled to pull the knife out of the wall and hand it to him before hitting his knees in respect to Solaris again. Perhaps it was twisted, to find satisfaction in these four’s fear, but they were cruel bullies and while some of them could be reached with compassion, with careful tending and redirection – he’d never had the patience for that sort of thing.

And there were some things that there was no coming back from.

Solaris, Hansa sitting regally at her feet, nodded to them as they walked past her. She was apparently fully content to simply stand there and let the boys stew. Perhaps the Firecat had called for their mentors to report to her so the investigation could begin. Between Hansa and the two Sunsguard standing outside the door at rigid attention, she should be fine. There was always lightning.

She would have said something if they’d had additional duties or tasks after all, so for the moment the only thing they needed to focus on was getting Maltin moved in to the Hall.

“Eldest, about the comments – “ Maltin began to say, Kir silencing him with a raised hand, locking his hands behind his back again before saying, “This conversation is one best held somewhere more secure than garden paths, Acolyte Maltin.”

“Of course Eldest,” Maltin murmured, bowing his head.

Kir apparently didn’t like the silence that followed any more than he did, as he cast a glance at him over the much younger man’s head and smirked, “Forced them to give you back the knives you threw at them? And you made it look so easy.”

“Please,” Anur scoffed, “They were terrified witless of me. If I’d demanded it, they’d have thrown themselves off a wall to escape me.”

“Your usual homicidal maniac routine, I suppose?”

“Alternated between fully furious and maniacally cheerful,” Anur gave him a grin, flipping the now bloodstained blade around with his right hand again. He needed to clean it off before sheathing it. “To think, Loshern is the one that taught me that trick.”

Kir rolled his eyes, replying dryly, “Yes, because being able to terrify the wits out of people by acting friendly one moment and predatorily lethal the next is such a useful talent.”

“Considering our lives?” Anur pointed out, Kir barking a laugh and inclining his head, “Point.”

Maltin’s head was no longer bowed, his gaze no longer locked on the ground, and there was a slight smile on his lips to boot, so their banter had served its purpose. “I implied we were returning from a meeting with Solaris and had decided to swing by to check on the acolytes rather than say I was stalking them,” Anur continued airily, “So for consistency’s sake we might need to check on Etrius and Rodri.”

“Etrius is close behind,” Kir replied calmly, “I saw him leave his building when we did, and for Rodri I asked that Kari keep a specific eye on him now that the other two are within sight.”

Anur raised an eyebrow and sent a wordless mental query his friend’s way, Kir responding in kind with, _:Using mindspeech is not the problem anymore, brother – at least not when I’m the one speaking. It is the other voices that give me difficulties.:_

_:So you can speak to Kari, but would prefer he direct any replies to me?:_

_:He sent back wordless confirmation – much as we do sometimes,:_ Kir’s mental voice was tight with a bizarre sort of anxiety as he continued, _:We’ll have to wait and see if that triggers anything. It shouldn’t, I’m – I’m getting better about it.:_

 _:You are,:_ Anur was quick to reaffirm, wishing briefly he was standing next to Kir rather than flanking the acolyte they’d had to fetch. _:I never thought we’d be able to mindspeak with one another, much less have Aelius join in,:_ he continued, _:You’re a_ lot _better, and if this is where you feel comfortable, you don’t need to push it further, Kir. I’m perfectly happy being an intermediary for mind-speaking.:_

_:Thank you, Anur.:_

_:Anytime.:_

They had reached the Hall by then, Kari rising to his feet as they shut the door behind him and cocking his head to the side, mental voice for Anur alone as he asked, _:Shall I fetch Kavrick?:_

 _:Please,:_ Anur replied immediately, not needing to consult with Kir on that one. While Maltin may decide to speak without his mentor present, either way they’d be wanting to speak with Kavrick soon enough so might as well get him now.

 _:The small conference room we used earlier today is unoccupied,:_ the Cat said before trotting off.

He relayed that to Kir, who nodded and headed that way, Maltin hesitating only briefly before following. Anur considered following immediately but instead headed for the kitchens, wiping his knife down on his sash before sheathing it – awkward conversations were often helped along by the presence of tea.

At this rate, he’d become infamous within the Order for plying them with tea constantly.

Well, there were far worse things to be known for.

 _:Tea preferences?:_ he asked Kir, who sent back, _:Something more expensive, just as a subtle bribe – but not too strongly flavored.:_

 _:So nothing like your morning blend then?:_ Anur shot back, nodding shortly to the small group at the kitchen table still and grabbing three mugs. He and Kir could just share.

Using the reverse of the method Kir had described for cheapness, he dug around in the back of the tea cupboard and pulled out something that smelled sweetly spicy and already came in sachets. He pocketed three and cut across the courtyard with three mugs of water in hand.  None of those lurking in the kitchens asked him anything, and only Lumira had returned his nod, the other two deep in their own discussion. They were comfortable enough to ignore him at least, that was promising.

Kavrick reached the door the same time he did and raised an eyebrow at the mugs before opening the door for him, Anur nodding his thanks. Maltin was sitting in one of the worn armchairs, bag at his feet and noticeably tense; Kir was standing at the stained glass window and looking out, hands still locked in the small of his back.

“Kir?” Anur said, holding up the mugs and unsurprised when they quickly began steaming, water nearly at boiling. “Thank you,” he continued, pulling out the tea sachets and dropping one in each mug, amused at seeing Maltin’s nose twitch and the teen quickly perked up, apparently recognizing the scent. At least he’d chosen well.

Passing one to the acolyte, he handed another off to Kavrick, who was now looking rather worried, and inhaled the scented steam of his own before saying, “So, shall I start?”

“Acolyte Maltin?” Kir prompted, the teen hesitating before nodding shortly, saying, “Please, Lieutenant-Enforcer.”

“During our discussion with the acolytes and Rodri Kir invited them to move into the Hall, as we have plenty of room here,” Anur began, figuring Kavrick could use the background information. “At that point, it came up that Acolyte Maltin had faced difficulties with his dorm mates due to his Order, and that it was a recurring problem. In order to head off any further hostilities along the lines Rodri encountered, I followed him back to his dorms to simply monitor the situation while Kir went to meet with Solaris.”

Judging by the sudden slump to Kavrick’s shoulders and the tired way he sat down in the nearest chair, he was well aware of these recurring dorm mate issues, and had likely tried to deal with them before but with little success. Interesting, given the usual reputation of their Order, that he hadn’t been able to intimidate them into submission.

“The usual group?” Kavrick asked his student, Maltin only nodding mutely and the Second Order Firestarter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I swear, those four and their mentors do more damage to our priesthood’s reputation…”

“Ah, so their mentors approve of their behavior?” Kir commented, turning from the window and accepting the still too-hot tea Anur shoved at him absently, “Lovely.”

“Perhaps not active approval, but at the least a disinclination to sanction,” Kavrick grimaced, “As the four in question were sent as tithe offerings from noble families anyway – and are led by a noble second-son sent as a _supplementary_ tithe offering…”

“Worries of offending his very generous family keep people from disciplining him as necessary,” Kir said sourly, Anur echoing Kavrick’s expression, guessing the one they were talking about was Fake-Kris. He seemed the ringleader type.

“Which one was that?” he asked, wanting to confirm his guess.

“The one you stabbed,” Maltin replied, Kavrick immediately choking on his sip of tea and spluttering, “You _stabbed_ him?”

“I threw a knife in his direction and he failed to dodge,” Anur gave a tight smile, “That’s my story, and as the other knife I threw hit a wall, I can stick to it.”

“May I ask what _prompted_ you to start throwing knives?” Kavrick asked, definitely still in a state of disbelief.

“There was an intimation of prior sexual assault,” Kir said bluntly and Kavrick’s disbelief went straight to rage, the man snarling, “ _What?_ ”

“There was none!” Maltin finally burst, all three of them snapping their gazes to him and he flushed slightly, “There was nothing of that nature,” he repeated stiffly, “They simply… insinuated. I think they were trying to imply that my admission to the Firestarting Order was contingent upon such… favors, but I honestly don’t know. The comments were rather rare, compared to the rest of their favorites.”

His voice was distinctly sour at the end and while Anur was relieved to find that the worst they’d suspected had never occurred, he still held firm that Fake-Kris deserved his wound. Hopefully it would scar.

“For such harassment to be so common for them to have _favorites_ ,” Kir grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose and passing the now lukewarm tea back to Anur, who was quite happy to finally try this expensive tea he’d picked out.

It was delicious.

Almost as delicious as spice-cake.

And he’d apparently said that last bit out loud, because Kir gave an honest laugh and said mockingly, “A miracle in itself, that anything can compete with your love of spice-cake.”

“Well there are some of the same spices in this tea,” Kavrick commented, lips twitching and Anur decided that while they were now amused at his expense, his subconscious was still rather brilliant for letting that slip. The mood of the room was far less grim now.

Kir just shook his head before returning to the point of their conference, “Well, hopefully some of the issues will be resolved simply by separation. Also, Solaris is meeting with the mentors and acolytes now and while we’ll pass on the good news that they were simply talk, they will still face some actual reprimand for that talk beyond whatever trauma Anur managed to induce. If there are any further issues, _please_ come to us.”

“Well now that I know _stabbing_ them is an option,” Kavrick grumbled into his tea, Anur and Kir both smiling at that comment and Anur made a mental note to ask about where they’d be getting blades for all the Firestarters. They could definitely pick up some for the acolytes while they were there.

“Apologies for delaying your settling in Maltin,” Kir said finally, the acolyte nodding and grabbing his bag again, standing and offering a brief bow before he headed for the door. Etrius’ voice carried in, “Found three rooms near each other. You all right?” before the door shut behind him.

Kir exhaled with a hiss, throwing himself in a chair and pinching the bridge of his nose again, saying, “I loathe this city.”

Kavrick snorted and said bitterly, “You’re not the only one.”

“With any luck, they’ll learn their lesson this time,” Anur said, taking the seat Maltin had vacated and sipping at the amazingly delicious tea before offering them a sharp smile, “If not – well. Solaris said nothing about not killing _priests_. It will not be that long before they are ordained.”

Both the Firestarters snorted, then shared a startled look at the echo. Anur hid a grin in his mug; as unfortunate as the incident prompting this meeting was, at least they were building bonds within the Order. As a relative newcomer, Kir was starting essentially from scratch. As a total newcomer, Anur was starting completely from scratch.

He probably had the better deal.

“It hasn’t been anywhere close to a mark yet,” Kir commented, “Shall we pack for Almondale?”

“We haven’t even unpacked, Kir,” Anur replied, raising an eyebrow, “How about you tell me about this Axeli fellow I’m going to be meeting?”

“Ah, you two are going to the forges with Rodri?” Kavrick interjected even as he stood to leave. “Did you have anything to do with that even starting, Eldest? I seem to recall you had a similar arrangement.”

“I did, and yes. I contacted Axeli when I heard Rodri had been taken to Sunhame and asked him to keep an eye out,” Kir said, hesitating before giving a rueful smile, “I figured it best to keep my name from being associated with his, given my reputation as a failure of a prodigy.”

Kavrick tilted his head to the side slightly before nodding slowly and saying, “I see your point, Eldest. I doubt it would have done any true damage to his standing within the Order, but by keeping him free of any sort of association – yes. I can see the benefits of that. Well, I shall leave you to your discussion, and can only offer my thanks for taking care of Maltin. I hope this time, the lesson does stick.”

“Of course,” Kir murmured, Anur saluting the other man with his mug instead and the Second Order Firestarter quickly left.

“I notice,” Anur said after a few moments of silence, “That he did not comment on your previous reputation as a failed prodigy.”

“I highly doubt any besides Jaina and Seras truly remembered I even existed,” Kir snorted, “Jaina because she trained alongside me, Seras because he was good friends with Verius and has apparently taken it upon himself to become our records keeper. But had my name come up, then the question of who I was would have arisen, and that record as a failed prodigy would have come up again. It also simply would have brought us greater scrutiny, which we could hardly risk.”

“Valid,” Anur grimaced, “If anything, our situation with the 62nd has become even more complicated.”

“In that some of our actions are now acceptable while others are still technically treason and heresy, instead of everything being condemnable?” Kir smiled wryly, “Yes. This halfway stage is going to be tricky. Hopefully it doesn’t last too long and Solaris’ reforms get pushed through quickly.”

Anur took the hint and returned to a safer avenue of conversation, repeating the question that had driven Kavrick off, “So, Axeli?”

“Right. Well, he’s head of the Ironworker’s Guild, which actually represents all smiths and forges, not just true ironworkers, and has been for as long as I’ve known him. The two that were with him two days ago were his daughter, Beka, who is unusual in that she actually works the forges alongside her father and husband, who was the other one, Yakob. At least, I assume they’re married, they were seriously courting when I left and she has marriage braids now.”

***===***pagebreak***===***

“I quite enjoyed that visit, we’ll have to do that again sometime soon,” Anur said cheerfully, Rodri snickering while Kir just shook his head, a resigned expression on his face.

While at first they had been concerned with what Kir had been up to lately and getting the basic catching up out of the way, things had quickly progressed to reminiscing and the potential for stories of Kir’s own youthful adventures was too good to pass up. Mocking references to a _prodka_ fueled evening spent nearly melting Axeli’s forge down were only the start and Anur looked forward to digging out the details in visits to come.

Kir had managed to distract them by working with Rodri on his flames and flabbergasting the three blacksmiths with his new-to-them ability to shape them so precisely. The cat’s cradle exercise was still Anur’s favorite and Rodri had quickly adopted it as an ultimate goal. Hopefully he wouldn’t scorch his fingers trying before he was ready.

Admittedly, another major distraction to collecting stories of Kir’s youth was the fact they were leaving Sunhame this afternoon. Particularly when they were asked why they were doing so and Anur had immediately responded with the fact they didn’t like the city while Kir had taken it upon himself to blame it on the fact Anur had stabbed an acolyte.

Which had necessarily led to clarification, because Kir made it sound like he ran around stabbing children in his spare time which was just malicious defamation of character. For one, Fake-Kris had most certainly _not_ been a child – at the _least_ he was sixteen and Maltin’s age and while yes, sixteen year olds could be stupid, they still were old enough to be held responsible for their actions.

When Kir was barely sixteen, he’d been ordained and sent out to die in the hinterlands of northern Karse for some still-unknown insult offered to a summoner. If anything, those brats should be _grateful_ all they faced was an angry Enforcer with a knack for throwing knives and acting insane.

“Are you really leaving because of problems with the others?” Rodri asked, keeping his statement appropriately vague as they were still in Sunhame itself and while there was definitely a dearth of people anywhere close to them, discretion was still a good idea.

“No,” Kir said, “There’s a problem much like the one you encountered in your hometown near the Morningray Mountains.”

Rodri’s eyes widened and he nodded, not asking why they hadn’t ridden out immediately. It was likely that question hadn’t even occurred to him yet, but it would eventually. Hopefully Kir and he would be out of range by then, because he didn’t feel like lying to the kid and the current plan was to keep the three youngest of the Order in the dark as far as the coup went.

Kir broke the silence that had fallen with a question after Rodri’s current lessons and the young teen fairly leapt after the topic, Kir hardly needing to say a few words to keep the conversation going. Anur was more than content to just listen, as pure and uncomplicated _chatter_ was something that he hadn’t heard in far too long.

It also was a decent way to learn more about the priesthood he’d be working with so closely without asking potentially awkward questions.

The conversation – as much as the one-way wave of talk could really be called that – lasted until they reached the Hall and Rodri bowed as he wished them farewell and good luck before heading for the archives. He had an essay of some sort due soon.

Before a mark was out, they were just exiting Sunhame proper. Aelius and Riva had both been delighted to leave the stables they’d basically been cooped up in for the past two days, especially since the stablehands were still giving them a very wide berth. With any luck some of the wariness would fade in time, otherwise Aelius coming out as a Hellhorse somewhere down the line could prove more difficult than they would have otherwise hoped.

“Sirs,” one of the two guards actually _at_ the gate stepped forward as they were leaving, grim expression not quite covering the nervousness in his gaze as he looked between them. “We’ve been asked to prevent long-term departures of members of the priesthood.”

“I’m aware,” Kir said calmly, handing over another seal-bedecked piece of paper but this time the message was actually read. The guard turned pasty and handed it back, offering a short bow and saying, “Apologies, of course you may depart Luminary – “

“No way,” Anur couldn’t help but interrupt, Kir pinching the bridge of his nose and saying, “Really? We’re going to have a discussion about ridiculous titles _now_?”

“How could you not tell me that _Luminary_ was a title?” Anur cackled, Aelius echoing his amusement with mental snickers, “It sounds like you’re _glowing_.”

“Well maybe if you didn’t _stab_ an acolyte – “ the guard was glancing between the two of them with wide eyes and an expression that seemed to indicate he couldn’t decide between running away in terror or sticking around to watch.

“This is going to be a thing, isn’t it? I’m always trying to get myself set on fire and I randomly stab acolytes. Fantastic. Just brilliant, thank you _ever so much_ Kir.”

Kir snorted and nodded shortly to the guardsman who gratefully backed away from them, probably worrying that their crazy was contagious, before swinging up into Riva’s saddle and giving him an actual _grin._ Anur made a mental note to get them an excuse to leave Sunhame for a day at least once a week. Hopefully without stabbing any more _entirely deserving_ acolytes. Rolling his eyes, he settled in Aelius’ saddle and sighed, “Fine. Now. Race you?”

Aelius launched into a run, Riva managing to do the same at the same moment which entirely belied Kir’s mental call of _:Cheater!:_

_:Ha! Like you’re one to talk!:_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotten some… interesting feedback from my thought-bouncers. Basically on the Maltin situation, so I decided to back-up my decision to make some acolytes total dicks. And, more critically, to back-up Anur’s decision to respond with throwing knives.
> 
> For the first, I call your attention to Karal, who talks about how isolated and shittily treated he was as a poor kid (not even that poor, innmaster’s son) with the nobility in the first few pages of his intro in Storm Warning. Second, Lackey has a history of giving her characters serious bullying problems – as in, they are trying to KILL you problems. I tried to bring that up by referencing Talia.
> 
> For the second – would Anur have done this in Valdemar? Probably not; but there he has authority that EVERYONE at least acknowledges courtesy his white uniform, in Karse, he has no such thing. Sure, theoretically he has authority, but he has to prove it, it’s not unquestioned. Also, he’s been going local for a while, it’s been nearly three years since he was working in Valdemar and even when he WAS working in Valdemar, he was working with the army during a war. His reactions are not exactly civilian-friendly. Will we be exploring this? Yes. But I just wanted to preemptively explain in case there was a comment explosion like my thought-bouncers produced.
> 
> Also, I kind of like explaining stuff like this.
> 
> Anyway, hope the situation (and, more importantly, Kir and Anur’s reactions) made sense and weren’t OOC.
> 
> But you know what? I got them out of Sunhame. Everyone, that, that right there, feels like a miracle in itself. Sweet merciful muses, that was difficult. Now for the bishra!
> 
> Gah.


	10. A Necessary Detour

It was fortunate indeed they’d managed to meet up with Lieutenant Kalesh and Senior Lieutenant Koshiro again. Convincing one of the victim’s families to let them use their loved one as bait had been difficult enough even with a friendly face known for giving accurate advice on hand – if it hadn’t worked, they’d probably have had to resort to kidnapping.

So long as the hunter survived, it would have been something they could brush over, but if something had gone wrong – much of the work he’d put into rehabilitating the Order’s reputation would have been severely undercut. Not exactly the sort of behavior expected of the Head of the Order in question.

But that bridge had never needed to be crossed, so the point was moot. Instead, after careful explanations to the family, the headman and the local priest-acolyte pair they’d been granted full consent to take the comatose Oskar Conners into the hills with them. Not only that, but they’d actually been given full access to the local temple’s stores, which had turned up a nice amount of sanctified oil and some silk stoles-turned-scarves the priest had gotten made up in preparation for going after this monster.

The scarves offered no protection at all from the cold – Kir could still see all of their breath seeping through the filmy things they’d wrapped around their lower faces – but between the material, the salted sandalwood smoke they’d been stored in for days and the embroidered protective sigils along the edges, they formed quite the barrier against the more threatening part of this trek. There was a fifth one in Jakyr’s coat pocket for the hunter they had borrowed, but that would have to wait for the _bishra_ splinter to be expelled from his lungs.

“How is he doing?” Kir asked the lieutenant, the pale-faced man looking up from the victim he was monitoring and saying shakily, “Still breathing but – it’s getting shallow I don’t – the sandalwood is helping?”

They’d brought a small censer from the local temple too, and it was hanging from a hook probably intended for lanterns when this mine was operational. The incense was staying in this general area at least, keeping the splinter from getting too much stronger despite now being closer to the primary. They needed to finish setting the trap up before digging the wretch out.

Initially Jakyr had been helping Anur and him set up the trap, a somewhat makeshift threshold crafted from iron, salt and blessed oil, but the man had been getting short of breath and rather shaky while they discussed how the trap would work, so he’d directed the lieutenant to take Devek’s place at the hunter’s side. The sandalwood scent would hopefully reassure his mind that he was safe here, or at least safer, from the monster that had nearly killed him.

Anur occasionaly woke up shivering and frantic that he couldn’t hear Aelius – and that was with the Companion immediately murmuring reassurances directly into his mind and Kir waiting with probably too-warm tea. He would have to get Anur to pull Kalesh aside and speak to him about being attacked by horror-tale monsters.

“Good,” Kir nodded shortly and kept his tone brisk, keeping the soldier focused on the task at hand, “We’re about done with the set up. Could you ensure the evacuation route is clear for yourself and Koshiro?”

“Of course sir,” the lieutenant immediately stood and headed towards the entrance to the mineshaft – they were hardly ten meters in, but the mine had been shut down for over a decade and there was plenty of debris. Most of it from travelers and hunters such as their victim, but that didn’t make it any less of a tripping hazard.

Once the splinter was removed, the faster the other three got away, the better.

Kir knelt by the unconscious man’s side and let his vision slip sideways to the world half-removed and winced. The splinter had darkened, indicating a stronger grip, but it hadn’t expanded at all at least. Hopefully it would remain anchored purely in the man’s energy network and not transcend to the physical – claws raking along the inside of his lungs wasn’t exactly something incense and time could fix. As it was, his networks – faint veins of color, of warmth and _life_ – would remain scarred for some time, if he ever fully recovered. All the victims of this monster would have to remain wary of lung ailments for the rest of their lives – much as he did, actually. But his was a purely physical problem, theirs… well, hopefully Oskar would be the only one with a bordering on _traumatic_ extraction. The goal of this whole plan was to get the primary trapped and calling on the splinters so they left willingly to aid the source.

“I think we’re set over here Kir,” Anur called, keeping his voice low, “Do a final check?”

“Check and run through, I think – then we’d best get started, I’m not liking the shade of this splinter,” he replied, rising to his feet and quickly heading for the trap Anur and Devek had just finished. The Senior Leiutenant raised his torch higher so the light hit all the rail ties they’d assembled – a simple box, really, with the line towards the depths of the mine broken by one misplaced tie. He scanned the set up another time anyway, before letting out a low hiss, “Looks solid,” he said.

“Right – so, to run through,” Anur bobbed his head a few times before visibly forcing himself to stop and continuing quickly, “You extract the bishra splinter, which will pull the primary out from wherever it’s lurking in this mine-maze and it’ll have to cross the broken line – once it’s in, I pull that back line into place and you set the oil alight.”

“Jakyr and I drag Conners out of here once the splinter is removed and get away from the entrance, as that’s going to be a funnel for the rest of the monster-pieces,” Koshiro supplied.

“We crack the front threshold so the other splinters can get in, and play a waiting game with iron and fire to keep us safe while the splinters are all called in – Aelius keeps an eye out for stragglers, tells me when there aren’t any more coming and we shut the gap, then burn the hell out of this thing,” Anur concluded, rubbing his hands together before crossing his arms, a frown on his face, “That’s the plan.”

Kir nodded grimly, sparing a moment to pray for their success and if at all possible, safety.

“Now let’s see if that plan plays out at all.”

***===***pagebreak***===***

The noises coming from the mine-shaft were not exactly reassuring, Devek thought grimly, knowing he was as white-faced as Jakyr without any need for a mirror. Hopefully he wasn’t shaking too, but white-faced he’d grant quite willingly. That – that _thing_ that had come up the mine at them while Father Kir performed a significantly more elaborate extraction on Conners – chanting, anointing with oil, very fancy – it was…

Devek shuddered, feeling far more chilled than the frigid air and snow could account for, Conners groaning and grumbling somewhat coherently about it being blasted cold. If he were truly conscious he wouldn’t be complaining about the cold, but right now Devek wasn’t too worried –

He flinched when the snarls and screeches suddenly changed pitch, became a higher, ear-piercing shriek echoing out from the shaft they were very carefully avoiding looking at directly. No splinters had gone in in a while, but seeing warped shadows with teeth and thorns that drifted on the breeze with sounds like nails on slate had been bad enough when it was one or two. When the swarm came in he was hard pressed to keep Jakyr from sprinting headlong in the other direction, duty and semi-conscious man to guard be damned. Hells, he’d been hard-pressed to not just throw Conners over his shoulder and follow. They’d have stopped before they hit the Plains.

Probably.

He had at first been a little disappointed that he wouldn’t get to see how this monster actually died; getting away from his unit for this venture hadn’t been too difficult, but still tedious and he wanted to _see_ it!

He had been a bloody _idiot_.

Father Kir and Herald-Enforcer Bellamy were more than welcome to that sort of thing; he’d be perfectly happy to never encounter one of these _witach_ monsters again. These things belonged in _tales_ , in horror stories to scare children and Sunlord he was never going to be able to tell one of those creepy spook stories around the fire again no _wonder_ the twins had alternated between shuddering refusal and hysterical laughter when people pestered them for the _lothga_ story.

How could someone possibly ever _explain_ this, ever even _think_ that some words strung together in a story could capture the sheer _wrongness_ of what had passed them by, thank the One God?

He winced, the shriek hitting piercing heights and Jakyr groaned, swaying slightly and clutching at his head. Before he got more than a brief ache in his ears there was a low rumble he felt in his bones and he recognized it with a dry-mouthed sort of terror.

But the shriek was cut off, the rumble turned into a roar, and he had no time to worry about slides of mud and muck and boulders washing villages away because there was a clearly worried witch-horse running towards a mine shaft that was spewing dust and pebbles.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Kir sat up carefully, a rain of pebbles falling off of him at the movement. Raising a hand and calling a magelight rather than fire – no need to eat up their usable air after all – the blue-tinted light cast harsh shadows onto Anur’s face, exaggerating the strain in his features. “All right,” Kir said, keeping his voice low and calm, “How long can you hold this pocket?”

“Absolutely no idea,” Anur managed, wincing as small pebbles rained down at the distraction.

At the moment, they were sitting in a pocket big enough for the two of them to sit up and stretch out if they lay down, but if they tried to stand it would be with a definite stoop. As it was, Anur’s limbs were already starting to shake and Kir doubted this would last long enough for them to get dug out. They’d been pretty far back from the entrance of the mine shaft for the trap, and even with the brief sprint they’d managed towards that entrance when the cave-in began, they couldn’t be more than halfway there.

“Okay,” Kir said, reaching mentally for Aelius and calling, _:Witch-horse?:_

_:Here. I’m supporting Anur with what I can but this isn’t going to work for very long. Half a mark at the most.:_

_:And that will definitely not be enough time for digging us out, even if we work at both ends.:_

_:Probably not – Koshiro’s willing to try though, already started actually. Kalesh is making his way over, Riva is watching over Conners.:_

_:While I appreciate their efforts I don’t think it’s really going to help. Right – we need to just…:_

Kir paused, before rolling his eyes and sighing exaggeratedly, casting a rueful look towards Anur, who’d been listening to the whole conversation anyway, and said aloud, “We need to just _ask for help_.”

Curls of flame at his feet answered that declaration, and Kari appeared with glowing blue eyes that he was willing to bet were glittering with humor. _:Wondered how long that was going to take,:_ the Firecat said wryly, Anur giving a relieved laugh and Kir carefully shifted around so he could wrap an arm around Anur’s waist and Kari quickly draped himself across both their laps and with a warm yet disorienting surge of fire, they were sitting on sun-drenched snow.

“Father Kir!” Koshiro was clearly relieved, backing away from the small dent they’d already made in the wall of rubble that blocked the mine. A low rumble came from further in and there was another shower of dust as the rocks shifted with the collapsing pocket. “We – completely forgot about the Honorable Kari. Thank you, Sir Cat.”

Kari simply nodded regally before rising to his feet and vanishing in a curl of fire, leaving the four of them and the witch-horse staring at each other for a few long, relieved moments before Anur was seized with a coughing fit, Kir wincing and dragging himself to his feet, grabbing a waterskin from Aelius’ saddle and passing it to him. Anur toasted him with it, still coughing, but there was no worry from him, just an exasperated sort of humor so Kir turned to the soldiers they’d dragged into this. “Conners is all right?” he asked.

“Believe so sir,” Jakyr spoke up, “Semi-conscious, but muttering about how cold it was so he has his voice back at least.”

“Good,” Kir let that worry fade, “Hopefully we got all of the blasted splinters. Let’s get back to Almondale and return Conners to his family.”

“And convince them to part with some ale in gratitude,” Devek grumbled, looking over his shoulder at the mine and shuddering. “That was – disturbing.”

“No argument from me,” Anur snorted, accepting Kir’s hand to pull himself to his feet. “I’m going to need some of your tea Kir, that was – that was a lot of weight, all at once.”

“Of course,” Kir eyed his brother worriedly, “You need it now or can it wait until we get back?”

“Oh it can wait,” Anur grinned, eyes already tight with pain giving away the exaggeration, “Aelius can just follow behind you and Riva – I’ll keep my eyes shut and the glare shouldn’t give me as much trouble.”

Conners still wasn’t quite coherent, but he was conscious enough to be helpful when it came to getting him up on the horse in front of Kalesh. The path they’d taken through the snow was already rather slick, making the hobnails they’d screwed into their horses’ shoes more than worth the curse-driven hassle that morning. As it was, Kir was simply glad the winters in recent years had given all their horses plenty of experience with navigating snow covered slopes, otherwise their descent would have taken a lot longer.

Anur was covering his eyes with his hand by the time they reached the main road, Kir feeling his own temples start to throb in sympathy. Hopefully it was due to his own exertions and the glare, not some strange new feature of their mental connection. Sharing headaches was going too far.

Before he could give the order to stop – he wanted to make a flask of headache tea, forget waiting until they were in town – Conners gave them the excuse. Stirring and blinking at the sky dazedly, the hunter sat up from where he’d been slumped against Lieutenant Kalesh and asked, voice rough from disuse, “Where – what happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Kir asked, not needing to signal for the four of them to rein in their horses. While Conners furrowed his brow and tried to think back, Kir pulled an insulated flask out of his pommel bag and quickly found the wax-paper cone he stored his tea in. A couple of pinches would be more than enough – this was far from the first time he’d desperately needed tea on the trail.

If there was one thing about his gift for fire he’d desperately miss, it was the ability to heat water with no preparation – the sheer convenience of it!

“I… I couldn’t talk,” Conners rasped finally, Devek passing the man a waterskin, “And just felt – tired, all the time. Couldn’t breathe right. So I just – I went to sleep. And then I was… coughing? I think I heard chanting? I’m sorry Your Holiness, I really don’t know.”

“That’s to be expected,” Kir assured him, capping the flask and letting the tea steep for a few moments. “Did you go into the old mine at any point recently?”

“A few days before I couldn’t speak, yes sir,” Conners suddenly blanched, “You mean – those shadows it wasn’t – “

“It wasn’t a trick of the light, no,” Kir grimaced, that answered that question. _Bishra_ could latch on without someone noticing, particularly when they were asleep, but the odds of the entire party being asleep in a cave while on a hunting excursion had been rather low. But brushing off that corner-of-the-eye shape?

Not unusual at all.

“What was it?” the hunter shuddered, white showing all around his eyes. Blast, the man was going to go into shock at this rate.

Riva sidestepped so he could reach the man’s shoulder and he carefully dried and warmed the man’s clothes and coat. The surge of warmth got his attention and Conners shook his head, looking over and apparently only just registering the trim on his robes.

The man immediately stiffened and Kir grumbled under his breath, straightening in his saddle and passing Anur the now potent tea. Urging Riva to continue down the road, he said shortly, “Calm down. We didn’t get a mine-shaft dropped on our heads to have you freeze to death now. It was an old wretch called a _bishra_ , brought in from the taint of blood-magic. It spread from your hunting party to about half the town – we’re heading back now to see if we were able to get all of the splinters or if some managed to escape.”

The remainder of the ride into Almondale was spent in silence, though Anur rode up next to him so they could pass the tea between them. The throbbing at his temples had gotten worse while he talked to Conners, so it didn’t seem to be feedback from Anur’s headache at all, thank the Sunlord. Passing crippling headaches between them would be a huge liability given how often one or the other of them managed to get one.

Sandalwood scented smoke reached them first, but by the time they reached the tiered streets of the hillside town, it had faded to nearly nothing. Between that and the joyful voices that carried on the breeze, Kir felt rather confident in saying the _bishra_ itself was no longer a problem.

At least _one_ of these messes had been easily resolved.

“Your Holiness!” the local priest had apparently been keeping an eye out for them, walking towards them just shy of what could be called rushing, genuine gratefulness in his gaze. “It is good to see you’ve returned – and Oskar! Is all well?” he asked, clasping hands with Kir the moment he dismounted and they exchanged quick blessing gestures. This priest, at least, was willing to welcome a Firestarter and his entourage of Sunsguard – they were monster-slayers now, after all.

“Those affected for longer will need to be particularly careful of lung ailments for the rest of the season, and cautious for the rest of their lives,” Kir said, inclining his head in acknowledgement of Conners’ bow before the man hastened off to where his family was waiting, having followed their priest.

He kept an eye on that thrilled reunion, having a feeling that joyous occasions, chances to feel warmed by something other than anger, were going to be few and far between in the coming weeks. “But other than that,” he continued, returning the majority of his focus to the other priest, a man probably a bare decade older than him but all the greyer for it, “All is well, yes. Well, aside from scrapes on our part, but that is nothing to concern yourself over.”

The priest’s eyes narrowed and the man said, “I think we can determine what we should worry over, Your Holiness. For the past week I’ve worried that I would be burning pyres for half my village, with hardly a guess as to what had caused it. We are in your debt, and we would be remiss if we did not acknowledge that. We have a small inn, I’m afraid there are only two rooms in the whole place, though our stables are more than sufficient for your four mounts – “

“We’ve rested in tighter quarters,” Kir said dryly, “So long as there is a roof and a place for our horses, it is perfect.”

“Well those necessities we can certainly manage,” the priest hesitated before saying, “And if you are agreeable – the headman and I would appreciate the chance to hear details as to just what was terrorizing our people. After you’ve rested of course! Perhaps after the Sun Descending service?”

That would give them time to settle the horses, find food for all members of their party, and hopefully nip their headaches in the bud. Ideally, he’d get a chance to pick Jakyr’s brain over some local maps again, but if that had to be left for after the tale – because that’s what they were after, a tale – then so be it. Locals to question as to odd silences or strange quarantines would be most beneficial.

That _bishra_ had been far too strong for a mere half-moon of mild contaminants. Somewhere in these hills was a scene of brutal, _witach_ -bound slaughter – and it was their job to find it and those who’d perfomed the twisted rites, Sunlord be merciful.

Kir had no plans to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. That was rough. And then super short - sorry - rewrote the bishra death sequence so many times... Have the next chapter half done though, so hopefully, computer gremlins aside, this won't take as long! And maybe it'll be a hefty sized chapter again!


	11. Tainted Grounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will seem very familiar (i.e. identical to previous posting) until third segment – which is actually partially a recycled light-hearted scene I was very sad I hadn’t been able to work in yet, so the fact that the first line was a perfect lead-in from the previous scene was just perfect! If your’re curious as to why, read later note! Hope this one rings truer!

“Sage, and frankinscence is somewhere in the stores I’m sure, and we surely can’t have used _all_ the sandalwood – thank the One God there’s a new regime or the restocking requests would have had me thrown to the Fires for frivolous use – “ Chandric, the priest who had so welcomed them to Almondale, still showed no sign of regretting that welcome even as he muttered his way through a list of supplies needed for the spiritual purification of an entire settlement and potentially a full mining complex.

An acolyte was scribbling down all the things he mentioned, the young woman’s eyes wide with something verging on terror but still leavened with a heady rush of excitement. That wouldn’t last long, Anur knew, nursing yet-another mug of tea. Within the next few days – depending on which of the more remote settlements had fallen victim to these _witach_ – she’d probably be losing her lunch behind a snowbank and swearing off all excitement ever.

Kir was sitting back in his own chair, subtly propping himself up with angles and edges so he looked like he were entirely alert when really he probably wished he could indulge in Anur’s half-sprawled posture. Koshiro and Kalesh weren’t quite as boneless but they were certainly slumping, especially now that they no longer needed to give horrifically-unsubtle glowers at anyone who eyed Kir sidelong.

Probably entirely counterproductive, given their goal was to keep people from shying away from Kir, but a nice sentiment at least.

 _:Surprised you’re farming this job out,:_ Anur commented, letting his eyes slide half-shut as he kept an eye on things.

 _:If we didn’t have a damn good idea this was a precursor to a coup, I wouldn’t,:_ Kir replied shortly, mind-voice wrapped in sharp edges and anger. _:But we have to get moving – purifying the town is going to be a days long project, if not weeks. We simply can’t spare that kind of time.:_

 _:Chandric seems competent enough, and more than willing to_ listen _even more importantly.:_

 _:He nearly lost half his congregation to monsters out of legend,:_ Kir replied dryly, some of the anger burning under his words subsiding to a background roar, _:And we killed it. So yes, he is most certainly willing to listen. How’s the headache?:_

_:Basically gone – I’ve done that much weight before, but with slow build-up so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. How are we tracking these bastards?:_

_:Using the taint of the_ bishra _and a map of Karse for some simplistic scrying. It’ll get us the right region at least – since blood-magic is so rare, detecting the stain with a map will be enough for us to get an idea of their location, and then we can do a more detailed working when we get close.:_

_:Any supplies you need for that?:_

_:No, just one of our maps, some of the herbs from our kit for amplification, and a quiet space. Planned for before the dawn service, it shouldn’t take long at all.:_

_:Good – I’m not waking up four marks fore dawn for that.:_

_:Half a mark before the service, at least.:_

_:I’ll hold you to that.:_

***===***pagebreak***===***

Half a mark was a bit of an overestimation. Kir had woken up a full mark before dawn, simply unable to sleep any longer, so had just lain there, reciting simple prayers and listening to Anur breathe. By the time a half-mark had rolled around, Anur had woken up as well, grumbling about cursed dawn worship services and how _so much of Karse_ was explained by constant sleep deprivation and never enjoying the luxury of sleeping in.

Kir had simply rolled his eyes at the familiar rant and set to spreading out the map on the floor of the cramped room they were sharing. Holding down the corners with candle holders and spare knives, he dug around in the kit Synia Greves had gifted him with – by now restocked at least twice with the more commonly used items – and pulled out a bare dusting of each of the necessary herbs and resins. This wouldn’t take much.

“So, is this going to be like that world-half-removed vision with the Hardornen ghosts?” Anur asked, covering a yawn.

“Ah – sort of. It will be focused on the map, but you may see traces of the surrounding area too,” Kir shrugged, “I can’t say I’ve used this method recently. I tracked Furies with this in my first years in the 62nd, but rather quickly learned how to sense them out without elaborate preparations.”

“Are you going to get to that point with blood-magic?”

“I think I’m already there,” Kir grimaced, “At least for a similar sized region as the dead-zone. There’s a reason I suggested they head for Peak’s Town first.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t broaden anymore,” Anur said, “Otherwise you’ll start picking up on Ancar’s mess.”

Kir shuddered at the idea before settling on his knees next to the map, Anur mirroring his position with a graphite stick in hand. They weren’t sure if he’d be able to see the world as Kir would without Aelius in physical contact, but he’d still be able to mark the map where Kir indicated if he couldn’t.

Cupping his hands around the mix of scents, Kir raised his hands to his face and exhaled slowly, using that breath to fan the flames he sparked, letting his eyes slide half-shut as he inhaled the curling smoke. When he felt his invoked mage-sight shift, he let the crumbling ashes scatter across the map as he opened his eyes, looking down at the now vibrant paper.

“That’s amazing,” Anur murmured, apparently able to see things this way again, and he reached down to point at a pulsating black and red rot in the middle of the mountains, “Peak’s Town, I’m guessing?”

“Quite,” Kir said grimly, watching how the colors shifted and pulsed with the rhythm of Karse’s natural energy. The blood-magic stain, deepest in Peak’s Town, left streaks and spots trailing down the mountainside, a mark in the mines fading even as they watched. Good – the _bishra_ was definitely dead, and definitely alone.

More critically for them though, it painted skittering lines down the flanks of the range and into the stark desert of twisted stone and chasms directly north of the Morningrays, while another, fainter trace cut across the mountains to the southeast, to the fatlands. Two traces – they didn’t have time to split the party either – he’d have to see if Kari could get the headings to Solaris, perhaps she could get some scriers to attempt to see one or both of them. She had to have some that she trusted – at the worst, they’d be able to see if Devek’s Father Calais would try it, he obviously had some talent for the art.

But he wanted to get a visual confirmation on the darker path, before the multiple mages that made that party split once more. If he had a visual to focus on, even a brief glimpse of the _witach_ in question, he’d be able to track them much more accurately.

Actually, if he had a clear look at them, he should be able to rework the Oathbreaker rite – he’d rather not, because even though they most certainly deserved it, he did not particularly care for the dazed barely-remembered hunt that followed, but it was an option.

 _Politics_ curse it all. Were Solaris’ regime not in _need_ of this coup, in _need_ of crushing this opposition, Riva and Aelius could set their hardest pace and he’d have at least one party of _witach_ burned by tonight with the other soon to follow. But they’d discussed it, Solaris had prayed over it, and the decision had been made.

His judgement was trusted, but right now he had his burning orders.

Sunlord be thanked he’d been able to keep this burden from the other Firestarters. He had survived apolitically for years – it was only right that he take this for them now. They deserved a chance to exercise their flames, regain their ground, without concern for the _politics_ of the matter.

If they were presented with a true witch, one of Witach’s Brood, they should be able to burn it to ash immediately, no questions asked.

“Hey,” Anur murmured, hand wrapping around the back of his neck and tilting his head foreward so their foreheads rested against one another over the marked up map. “We’ll get these bastards, Kir.”

“After how many dead?” Kir asked tiredly, “How many innocents are going to suffer and die because we delay, because we refrain from destroying them the moment we spot them?”

“A lot,” Anur said bluntly, not bothering to soften things and Kir was unspeakably grateful for that fact, “Too many, especially when I consider lightning-deaths, Cats that can teleport, and the fact that right now, at this very damned minute, some _witach_ are probably have a damn good chuckle over some screaming sod, feeling very smug and invincible. Wars suck. Civil war revolutions suck even worse, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it because there’s fucking _religion_ involved.”

“Please, tell me how you really feel,” Kir said after a few moments silence, something in that rant bringing dry, black, and probably twisted humor to the surface. He couldn’t disagree with a single word, and it was his ‘fucking religion’ that was involved.

“Oh shut up,” Anur snorted, sitting back on his heels. “Karse is wonderful, feels more like home every day, but there are times when theocratic rule leaves a heck of a lot to be desired and I’m quite happy to be a godless heathen.”

Kir hesitated, wavered over this truth, but nonetheless murmured, “Some days, I can see the appeal.”

“Yeah,” Anur sighed, humor fading from him as well, “Yeah. I suppose you would. Some days, I wish I were a bit more of one.”

They stared at the map in silence for a time, nothing in the silence feeling awkward or heavy with anything beyond a duty they didn’t care for, until the summoning bell rang.

Because of all things to close that conversation, calmly heading for a dawn service in a village they’d saved from breath-stealing monsters even as others suffered and died at the hands of those responsible really said all that needed to be.

***===***pagebreak***===***

It was impossible to remain grimly focused all the time. For some years, Kir had managed to do damn near close and those years had been depressing in the extreme.

Knowing that, it still seemed almost wrong that there was laughter and cheerful taunts echoing in the still air. They’d gotten an early start, riding out immediately after the packed Sun Ascending service and heading northeast. Between terrain and the fact that not all their mounts were so sure-footed as Aelius and Riva, even with careful route planning it was likely they would be playing catch-up with the witches for a few days at least.

Once they were out of sight of the village, Aelius had taken the lead with Kir following behind – between his sure-footedness and Kir’s map they shouldn’t get too off course or crippled by poor footing, which was a definite risk in these parts, even with the hobnails. But as they were all on foot for this first pass crossing, horses trailing behind aside from the Companion, progress was necessarily slow – and slow progress lent more time for rather gloomy thoughts as to what they would find at the end of this.

Anur had allowed the dour silence to hold for a half-mark before pelting Devek in the back of the head with a snowball, which had led to the current state of affairs.

Kir grinned, not worried about any of those in snowy combat seeing him, again checking their progress on the map. If they’d made the progress he and Aelius thought they had, they should be at the other side of this high-altitude pass within a mark or so and beginning their descent. Time enough for their fun to be put aside later.

“Ha! Witch-powers for the win, _again_!” Anur whooped, Kir looking over his shoulder briefly and chuckling despite himself.

Anur had failed to mention that he had prior experience with using his Fetching in snowball fights, so his seemingly gracious concession to let the two of them team up while he used his Gift had been anything but.

“Koshiro – we need to rethink our strategy,” Jakyr groaned, sitting up from where he had dived behind a snowbank to avoid Anur’s return volley. That strategy hadn’t been particularly thought-through either, given he’d ended up even more coated in snow that way.

“Plot all you like!” Anur called cheerfully, tromping towards Kir, “I’ll still win!”

Koshiro shook his fist at him, scarf hiding the grin his squinting eyes betrayed before he hauled Jakyr to his feet and they started muttering as they walked. Kir shook his head as Anur reached him, saying, “I’ll say it again. You are a cheat.”

“That’s the talk of a loser if I’ve ever heard one,” Anur sniffed, mock-haughtiness vanishing to a more serious mein and he continued, “Any traces?”

“Faint ones,” Kir grimaced, crossing his arms and trying to shrug deeper into his coat. “Peak’s Town and the _bishra_ traces could account for them, but there is some directional shifting so the source is moving over time, so it’s more likely the mages themselves.”

“And for you to sense it in discrete bursts like that – you think they’re practicing it now,” Anur echoed his tone, hunching into his own coat.

“I do,” Kir sighed, “And even if we were to actually do something when we got there, the pace we’re keeping is necessitated by terrain, it won’t do anyone any good if we fall to our deaths up here or lame a horse – and I asked Kari before we left Sunhame, he can’t go somewhere he hasn’t been before if there’s nothing he’s familiar with to serve as an ancho – ach!” he spun, hand thrown out and the snowballs flying towards him quickly vanished into fire and steam.

“Ah… sorry sir!” Jakyr called, voice choked even as he hid a snow-covered collapsible shovel behind his back, “We… ah – barrages are difficult?”

“Take _that_ witch-powers!” Devek cackled at the same moment, quickly halting his victory gestures and adding, “Ah – apologies, Father Kir.”

“We’re… defending Karse’s honor?” Jakyr offered, carefully edging behind his friend and technical superior officer. Kir finally broke, rolling his eyes and smiling as he shook his head, “At least your plotting was more successful this round.”

Anur slowly turned around at long last, his back entirely coated in snow thanks to the far more successful attack on the part of the Lieutenants and he glowered at them. “I have snow dripping down the back of my neck you _jerks_!”

“Haha!” Devek cried gleefully, pointing at Anur and all faint traces of embarrassment at nearly getting Kir at the same time vanished, “We win!”

“You were rather asking for it,” Kir chuckled, Anur giving him a betrayed look that quickly shifted to narrow-eyed speculation. Kir abruptly stopped laughing and said, “Oh no – no don’t you – ”

“For Valdemar!” Anur bellowed, tackling him into the nearest snowdrift, Kir yelping, “Herald!” and spluttering as he was soon buried in snow, Anur snickering as he rolled off of him.

Kir blinked up at the grey-blue sky and couldn’t help but laugh, even though he was now covered in snow that would undoubtedly soak through soon enough, even though he was walking towards witches he was under orders to leave be. Anur was still snickering as he stood and offered Kir a hand; he shoved his other hand into the snow for added leverage – it would be a simple matter to yank Anur down into the snow again –

The moment his hand reached frozen soil, the world was torn asunder.

“Kir! Kir!” Anur’s voice rang in his ears and he shook his head, gasping for breath and realizing he was now standing, Anur holding him upright, “Kir – back with us? Are you all right?”

Kir could hear his ragged breathing, could hear the worried queries from the soldiers, but the sheer mass of _screams_ drowned them out.

Drowned everything out.

He had chosen Anur over Solaris’ orders before. This wasn’t that far of a stretch.

 _:Witch-horse!:_ he barked, yanking free of Anur’s hold and throwing himself into the white and false-black horse’s saddle, _:I’m calling in that debt you owe me – get me there.:_

_:With pleasure, witch-hunter.:_

“Are you _kidding_ me right now?” Anur’s indignant shouts were left behind.

They would catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, why the change? Because queefqueen called me out on his OOCness, Kir and I had a long chat (which my new roommates were… concerned by) and I came to an important realization: I was trying to shoehorn my story into a not-even-remotely-canon set of events in Ohlanders Strenth and Honor, found in Crossroads. Later developments made his scenario in that story impossible canon-wise, but I was trying to work it in nonetheless because I thought it was an interesting idea. And it is, but it doesn’t work for my fic and my people – but I’d spent so long thinking about how I’d work it in, that it didn’t occur to me that I didn’t have to because his story wasn’t canon.
> 
> Lit on fire with my own determination to carefully tiptoe around canon, I suppose. Just forgot that the anthologies (minus Misty’s stuff of course) are basically authorized fanon. Which I can ignore.
> 
> Anyway, this should work much better, despite the 4K words I deleted in the end (yeah follow up!) and if you liked Kir facing yet another moral dilemma and suffering angstily as he did previously, no worries.
> 
> It will happen again, and in a way that doesn’t force characters to actions they’d never do. Thanks queefqueen – and all you other readers, you all are basically a beta network of awesome.


	12. Descendants of Witach

Over a year ago a Firestarter had ridden through town and a priestess she had trusted had asked him for aid. While at the time she’d have much rather never had the man come near her, after he had pronounced that _creature_ an Oathbreaker and hunted him down, she had burned incense for him and his Enforcer every day thereafter.

When the next package for their Temple from Sunhame included enough money for her to set up in another town, should she wish – well. She had burned more than a few sticks of incense that day. Rumors had been inevitable and while the true nature of what had happened to her had remained concealed, enough had become common knowledge that she couldn’t walk into a room without silencing whispered conversations. The relocation money had been more than appreciated.

So she had traveled, her training as an herbalist and moderate skill with weaving winning her a comfortable enough spot in a small oasis town just outside of the badlands skirting the northern Morningrays.

She should have fled the country; at least she could _anticipate_ demons being evil.

Anika ducked her head when one of the black-robes passed by where she knelt alongside the rest of the townspeople. Three short days ago five black-robes had ridden in and asked to consult with their chapel-keeper, the elderly man welcoming his colleagues without hesitation.

She had seen their eyes though, and had remembered that look. These five _hungered_ , and in a way that made her skin crawl as it hadn’t since the one now Nameless offered her a way to buy her brother’s safety.

The children were safely away at least. She had persuaded the mothers to do that much, sending the children to a little-known and seldom-used spring in the badlands themselves, using the admittedly flimsy excuse of the goats being hard to manage to get the herders to agree to it. Signalling them to stay away wouldn’t be difficult – those Oathbreaking scum had torched the Temple the very next day, their old chapel-keeper’s screams the only warning.

The black-robe was walking back, taking his sweet time about it and by now they all knew what that meant. The bastard was choosing his next victim. It had been too long between screams, the last one they’d pulled had undoubtedly died, no longer enough _entertainment_ for these scum. She refused to close her eyes, to shy away, and simply knelt there with a stoicism she had only become capable of after that assault all those moons ago. Murmurs of prayers, faint whispers of forlorn hope rushed along the lines of people, bound together by ankles and wrists and waiting like lambs for slaughter.

Anika held out no hope. Why should she? Hope would get her nowhere.

No, what she held onto, what she nursed against her breast like a child she’d never had thank the One God – was rage. Was a bone-deep _fury_ that creatures like this existed, that of the priests she’d met, there had only been the extremes and the foul, twisted representations of that brotherhood now outnumbered those that were decent.

It was wrong. It was _sick_ and she wanted every one of these Oathbreaking wretches to suffer for the wrongs they were doing, for the evil they were committing and for _daring_ to wear the same robes as Sister Rhiane, as Firestarter Dinesh.

As Father Jak, who had paid for his welcome with his life.

The black-robe had picked his next victim, she noted, the matronly woman who had a gift for pastry crusts dragged away from her now pleading and crying husband, the black-robe’s eyes half-shut with pleasure at the desperate tones. For the first time, she realized that there was a faint, sickly red glow about him and something of the stories heard round the fire, of the evils Vkandis turned his face from, came back to her and she knew this evil.

She knew this wretch.

“ _Witach_ ,” she whispered, horrified at the idea that _any_ priest could fall so far as one of the first evils, as that false God-King Ari had slain. It was one thing to hear whispers of those beasts in Hardorn, Hardorn was a heathen land and while she could feel a distant sort of pity for those stuck under the yoke of monsters, she had her own overseers to deal with and dodge. But to see them _here_ , in her _home_ –

A faint flash of fire appeared in the badlands, just visible in the dusk, and Anika knew what she must do.

“Please,” the black-robe had heard her and was giving her a twisted smile, “The _witach_ of stories was nothing more than some jumped up heathen – _we_ have gained true mastery, found the true _source_ of power and we will _crush_ that foul _blasphemer_ in Sunhame with this power granted to us!”

“No,” Anika said, voice shaking with rage as she slowly got to her feet, cords binding her to her neighbors unraveling to pieces, “You have found nothing worthy of praise, _Oathbreaker_.”

The man’s features contorted with an ugly fury and he shoved the shaking woman he’d chosen as a victim away, turning to her with raw power beginning to glow in his hands.

“You don’t know what you speak of, _woman_!”

“I call you Oathbreaker!” she screamed, nails cutting crescents into her palms, “I call you Outcast! I call you _Nameless_ , you absolute _scum!_ ”

The power in his hands had flickered as she roared, his face paling as her declarations echoed in the night, but that only lasted moments before the pallor and shock faded from his face and an entirely inhuman cruelty consumed it. Whatever faint traces of himself had remained – Anika knew she had just destroyed it, had taken it and deemed it unsalvageable, forsaken.

She could now die at peace, because some portion of her pain, of her fury, had been avenged.

He knew it too, and Anika felt a smile grow on her face even as the man began the motions to strike her down with the power he’d gathered. She had removed herself from his power with those accusations, with those truths. He would gain no power from her death.

No one would get power from her helplessness ever again.

***===***pagebreak***===***

The blood-magic was enough to blot out even the faintest traces of those who were trapped within the oasis town, unnamed on any map. Kir had already needed to pause to empty his gut as they descended at near ear-popping speed, hurtling down the slopes and across the badlands, the blood-magic overcoming his senses and leaving him reeling before he was able to block some of it out. Increasing in sensitivity was all well and good for tracking, but between the proximity and the screams still jangling between his ears it had just been too much.

But now they were within sight, bare minutes from hitting the town’s boundaries at Aelius’ node-driven speed, and he could still the screams.

Or at least replace their source, which would be just as good at this point.

A curl of flame behind him and he heard three sets of hooves break into a run, one far outstripping the others but not actually gaining on Aelius, thank the Sunlord. Riva managing to _gain_ on a Companion at this pace would be something he could no longer ignore for a later day.

_:Kari?:_

_:He’s going to warn Jaina that the plan is toast, check in with Solaris on the scrying for the other party, and possibly break the news to her. He might also leave that to us, but I don’t think so.:_

_:I have just made our lives much more difficult,:_ Kir thought, the very idea of the politics underlying the choices Solaris had made, the orders he had accepted, exhausting him like a day-long run never could.

 _:By making sure we could live with ourselves,:_ Anur refuted, _:I much prefer this path.:_

 _:As do I,:_ Aelius spoke at last, _:And remember – Jkatha.:_

 _:As much as we say we should flee there, I feel like we actually need to go at some point,:_ Anur commented idly, _:Strung and ready, Kir.:_

 _:Shoot anyone wearing robes,:_ Kir sent back grimly.

_:With pleasure.:_

The world narrowed as they entered the small settlement, Kir’s entire focus honing in on the mage preparing to strike a villager down – she had dared to challenge him, if their postures meant anything. The arrow flying past him to lodge in the man’s throat barely registered, Kir brushing past the already weakened protection spells the man had woven as if they were mere cobwebs before snagging that core of heat in his mind and letting it _burn._

Then making sure nothing caught Aelius alight, as the witch-horse trampled the flaming corpse into the dust with grim pleasure before coming to a wheeling halt, Riva skidding to a stop alongside the woman that had been marked for death and Anur did a near comical double-take.

“Anika _Brersi_?” he asked, aghast, “You have the worst luck in the world!”

Kir ignored that for the moment, tracing the blood-magic that saturated the place back to its core – under the burnt out shell of a Temple. Why would they stop with one blasphemy?

“How many?” he asked as he swung down from the saddle.

“Five,” the young woman said – indeed, Anika Brersi, what a horrid thing, to be in the path of _more_ of these honorless wretches. “Four now, Father.”

“He was out to drag a new victim in,” Anur’s face twisted with disgust even as he unstrung and secured his bow to Riva’s saddle, drawing his sword as he dismounted. “So they won’t be distracted.”

“Good,” Kir said shortly, not needing to look to know that Anur had fallen into pace beside him, heading for the Temple, “I want them to see this coming.”

***===***pagebreak***===***

By the time dawn had come, the matter was finished and on its way to mending, witches nothing more than scorched husks, if that. Anur sat down on the steps of the burnt temple next to Kir, who had just finished leading an abbreviated Sun Rising service in the square. He had no doubt that while thanks to the Sunlord had been sincerely offered, there had been plenty of despairing demands as to why this had happened, why this evil had been visited upon them, even temporarily.

The children had been spared, at least, and Anur spared a glance for the small crowd of them that had gathered around Anika and the two Lieutenants, who had escorted her to fetch them once they’d ridden in. Her furious decrying had quickly become the stuff of local legend, and it was as well-earned as it was well-timed.

Hometown heroes were always more inspiring.

“She would have made a magnificent Firestarter,” Kir murmured, having followed Anur’s gaze with his own tired eyes.

“She still might,” Anur chuckled, “Those cords that had bound her were entirely unraveled, Kir. A stitch-witch would be good for them – and now I can’t use all those common phrases for magic users of lower power than mages, damn it Witach, why’d you have to have that name?” he let his voice trail off into a grumble as he ranted, knowing as he did that Kir found these conversational detours entertaining.

They were also entirely valid concerns, so it worked even better.

“No,” Kir shook his head, a faint smile on his face, “A Firestarter wouldn’t have served. We’re expected to be strange, but her? Just a neighbor, a friend. These people will not forget that one of theirs stood up to evil and called it by its proper name – the people of Karse have watched horrors in silence for too long.”

“A good lesson then, taken from this mess,” Anur felt some of his remaining tension ease, feeling a contented crackle of flames he associated with _Kir_ against his mind. No roaring firestorms, no sputtering candles – Kir was content with what they’d managed to do, even with those they’d been unable to save.

He could content himself with that.

“There always seems to be one,” Kir said, unusually philosophical before shaking off the mood and nudging Anur with his elbow, “Now, for the matter of the southern cluster – any word from Sunhame?”

“Kari’s said nothing,” Anur shrugged, “Not that I’ve asked. I’ll take care of that now.”

_:Kari? We’ve about finished here, any news from Sunhame on the other group?:_

_:Ah, good. We’ll come to discuss it.:_

_:Wait who’s - :_

“Incoming!” Anur hissed, levering himself to his feet before offering Kir a hand, not liking the way his brother swayed slightly as he stood. Kalesh, Koshrio and he had been able to get some unsettled sleep, or at least rest, while Kir raced towards the town. He’d asked Kari to Jump them to Kir’s location once he was only a few minutes out, so they’d had a few marks to spare, but Kir had been awake for a full day now and it had been far from sedate.

Worries about Kir’s tiredness had to be brushed aside though, particularly given the gold-edged cream-and-scarlet robes that appeared from the flames of two Firecats. Solaris hardly gave them a moment to register the fact she had come personally before she was sweeping forward, hands extended to clasp Kir’s in her own as she examined his features carefully.

Anur watched while Kir smiled slightly and said, “Apologies for complicating things, sister.”

“You idiot,” she said bluntly, before hugging him.

Kir actually flailed – his arms literally flailed around like a landed fish –

“Stop laughing!” Kir hissed, Anur already on the ground, tears running down his face as he struggled to breathe through giggles. “You _flailed_!” he managed to gasp before collapsing into laughter again.

“Why am I friends with you,” Kir grumbled, Solaris stepping back from him with a chuckle of her own before offering Anur a hand back to his own feet. Accepting it with hardly a thought until _after_ he’d already used the God-Chosen Son of the Sun as leverage to get himself up, it was too late to do anything about it and from the looks of it she preferred being treated as an actual person for once – so he’d just continue as if he _hadn’t_ nearly had a heart attack.

“I _never_ intended for you to stand by as blood-mages wrought havoc,” Solaris murmured, raising her voice slightly as she looked around with obviously guilt-laden sorrow, “I had thought they would content themselves with the slaughter they’d already completed – it should have been more than enough power for them to feel confident enough to face Sunhame.”

“They are blood-mages, sister,” Kir shook his head tiredly, “They may start practicing it for the power, but they quickly do it for sheer pleasure.”

“And they were demon-summoners,” Anur shrugged, continuing bluntly, “And of the sort we probably should have taken care of before this anyway, so it wouldn’t be much of a stretch for them to find this sort of thing enjoyable.”

“You two could hardly have been expected to track down every priest in Karse and determine their moral stance,” Solaris retorted tartly and Anur smirked, raising an eyebrow at her and she quickly caught on and sighed, “You _are_ exasperating.”

“But of course,” Anur smiled honestly this time, scooping Kari up in his arms and Kir stratched behind the Cat’s ears, to his obvious purring pleasure. “Now, I think these nice people have spent enough time on their knees, don’t you?”

Solaris and Kir both started, apparently only just realizing that the entire town had immediately gone to their knees upon noticing her arrival.

“Oh dear,” she murmured, quickly stepping forward and letting her voice project clearly, Hansa at her side as she brought them to their feet and began to move among them, asking after their well-being – begging their forgiveness for allowing those who harmed them to go this far.

Anur watched Kir instead, watched as Kir watched her with a faintly wistful smile on his face. “They love her,” Kir murmured, “They love her, and they only spotted her a few moments ago.”

“They love her because they know she sent you,” Anur murmured back, hearing the unspoken query, the whisper left over from years spent thinking his only allies were a slightly-too-clever gelding and the fires he could call. “Also, quite frankly, she has better people skills than you do.”

Kir barked a laugh, the odd melancholy fading and Anur grinned at him, teasing, “Admit it! Your default expression is ‘blandly attentive’ with a dash of ‘implacable authority’ when you’re around new people. I had to whack you over the head with it to get you to start treating the Firestarters normally, just think where we’d be with them if you’d stayed all stiff and formal!”

“Ugh,” Kir shuddered, returning to his seat on the steps and bracing himself on his knees, “The matter doesn’t bear thinking about. We’d be far worse off on that front.”

Anur sat next to him and stretched his legs out, carding his fingers through Kari’s fur as he looked up at the clear blue sky – it was going to be one of the bitterly cold days of the season, with no clouds to soften the chill. Tilting his head slightly as he listened to Kari speak, he said aloud, “The other group is three mages, less powerful. They haven’t stopped yet besides resting and seem to be making for the Hardornen border – Hardorn itself is clouded. Tristan has a knack for scrying apparently, and has passed on some word of his new duties to the others – Colbern is more than ready to head out on a Hunt, and Jaina is pouring all her spare time into practicing with the halberd he managed to rustle up for her.”

“A _halberd_?” Kir asked incredulously, “Where did he find one of those for her on such short notice? Did he raid an armory?”

“I wouldn’t doubt,” Anur chuckled, shaking his head, “Kari doesn’t know. Rodri’s gotten a set of knives from Axeli already, so who knows what other weapons they’ve managed to get their hands on? At least they’re staying busy.”

“True,” Kir frowned, brow furrowing, “I hope they’re not feeling forced into this militarization.”

Anur sighed, nudging Kir’s arm until he looked at him and only then saying, “Kir – you’re not forcing them into anything. If they’re doing this unwillingly, at this point it’s their own damn fault and there’s nothing you can do about it. They’ll figure out that you don’t want to be ordering them around eventually. All we can do now is do our level best to make sure they stay alive and sane long enough to get to that point.”

Kir shrugged tiredly, “I know,” he said. “But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Looking up as Solaris walked back towards them, he raised his voice slightly and said, “I assume you’re heading back to Sunhame?”

“Unfortunately,” she sighed, “I love the city, unlike you, but it’s been years since I’ve so much as set foot outside of it aside from this excursion – and it’s hardly some holiday.”

“We’ll have to fix that at some point,” Anur said, Kir shuddering at the idea of being stuck in Sunhame for years at a time.

“I look forward to it,” she said earnestly, continuing, “Now, what is it you need for a purification and how long will it take? Kari has volunteered to bring the necessary supplies.”

“The taint is… concentrated,” Kir shrugged helplessly, obviously not happy with the description, “It will be easier to set up a containment around the worst of it, and cleanse it separately from the rest – so the town itself will be free of the taint within a few days, but the Temple…”

“Longer,” Solaris grimaced, examining the crumbled husk behind them. It had already been badly damaged by the blood-mages, so they hadn’t worried much about causing further damage when they’d gone after the wretches – Anur was surprised they still had steps to sit on. “By a fair bit. Just as well they want to rebuild the Temple elsewhere when they have the supplies for it – I’ll see to it that something is arranged on that front but it will go the standard routes, it’s not truly urgent.”

“Once we start on the purification and get a containment set, I was planning to burn the place to fine ash,” Kir said and Anur interrupted at that, saying, “After you rest, of course.”

Kir rolled his eyes and parroted, “Yes, after I rest, of course,” before continuing, “As for supplies – consecrated sage and sandalwood, wood to carve windchimes from, string for hanging said chimes, posts for the same, perhaps some proper knives and weapons while you’re at it, as a reassurance – containment… salt is unwieldly, oil disperses… carving runes into the earth would be best, so a channeling stave perhaps?”

“We can manage that easily,” Solaris agreed, “Very well. It shouldn’t take longer than a mark to get the majority of it to you – Sunlord protect and guide, brothers.”

“And to you, sister,” Kir bowed his head slightly and Anur just nodded, the two Firecats and Solaris vanishing in another flare of heatless fire.

They had a few moments of simply sitting in silence, Kir rather obviously struggling with staying entirely alert, when the other two of their party approached, still rather awestruck at actually _meeting_ the woman their unit had been working so hard for. “She knew our _names_ ,” Koshiro murmured, inclining his head slightly at Anur’s half-hearted wave towards the steps and sitting beside Kir, Jakyr dropping down beside him.

“Of course she did,” Kir chuckled, cracking his back, “I told her about you two when I reported the _bishra_.”

“She healed me,” Jakyr said softly, eyes wide with wonder, “My lungs – she – they’re fixed, she said!”

Kir went distant-gazed for a brief moment before smiling with clear relief, “They are,” he confirmed, “That is truly wonderful, Lieutenant. It’s like it never happened.”

“Still never going anywhere near a mineshaft ever again,” Jakyr continued, losing the hesitant tone and switching to a wry sort of humor, but there was still a quiet awe in his gaze.

“Ha!” Koshiro snorted, “ _I’m_ never going near a mineshaft again and I never even touched one of the cursed things!”

“Excuse me, but I think Kir and I have _far_ more reason to never go in a mineshaft again, seeing as we were nearly _crushed_ by one,” Anur retorted, tossing a grin their way and both Lieutenants’ eyes narrowed with mock anger – they had clearly not forgotten their crushing defeat at his hands yesterday, one successful ambush aside.

Kir chuckled, swaying slightly before he visibly braced himself again and Anur had had enough of this. Grabbing Kir around the waist, he hauled him up to his feet and said, “As enjoyable as bantering is, you need to _sleep_ Kir, or you’re going to keel over from exhaustion and hit your head on the way down because that’s just the way our luck runs. Let’s find somewhere for you to lay down for the few marks Solaris needs to rustle up supplies.”

“Place doesn’t have an inn, but Mistress Brersi pointed out the priest’s residence – no blood-mages went near it either, so it should be relatively clear,” Jakyr said, Koshiro and he both getting to their own feet, “Headman mumbled something like agreement – pretty sure he’s still in shock though.”

“All of them are in shock,” Koshiro snorted, before looking thoughtful, “Well, except for Mistress Brersi – you know her, sirs?”

“Encountered on one of our hunts,” Kir said blandly, leaning heavily against Anur with hardly a pretense of keeping himself upright, “Helped us track down that Oathbreaker. Her story to tell, of course.”

“Of course sir,” they both agreed swiftly, Anur simply glad that exactly what the Oathbreaker had _done_ had never made it to the stories that had spread – in Anika’s town, undoubtedly they knew more of the matter. But these two? As far as they were concerned, she’d helped track down an Oathbreaker somehow, and that was that, matter closed.

“Now, where is this residence?”


	13. Cleansing

Kir woke up to the smells of frankincense and sandalwood, occasional whiffs of pungent sage tickling his nose. Sitting up, he spotted a basin of water and quickly stood to splash his face, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes and bracing himself against the table as he looked around. He hadn’t exactly been coherent when Anur had dragged him in here, after all.

Small, one room home but the materials used were high quality for the region – and the kitchen was well stocked with foodstuffs from what he could see. Their saddlebags were at the foot of the bed with his armor and robes draped over one of the chairs and it looked like Kalesh and Koshiro had found cots somewhere, though they hadn’t been set up yet. There was a shelf by the hearth containing a copy of the Writ, a less-worn copy of the Rule and a few potted desert plants – in particular one he recognized as providing a key ingredient for burn ointment. There were similar pots on the windowsills throughout the house and Kir felt a pang of grief, of regret, that the priest who had cared for these hardy little things was gone, killed by those he called brother.

Bowing his head, he murmured a benediction and consolation for the dead priest, begging forgiveness for taking too cursed long to get here.

Letting the prayer drift in his mind for a moment more, he finally straightened and headed for the saddlebags. He should have some clean socks left at least.

It didn’t take long for him to be wearing reasonably clean clothes and armor, pulling his vestments on as he walked out the door. The scent from the incense blend was much stronger out here, a faint breeze carrying the white smoke through the whole town from where twelve stakes had been hammered into the ground around the scorched temple, bundles of smoldering herbs tied to the top. Any questions about how Anur had managed to figure out the proper set up – he didn’t think he’d been _that_ thorough in their discussions on potential situations they’d run into – were quickly silenced when he spotted the distinctive robes of his Order.

Jaina and Colbern had come along with the supplies, it seemed.

Colbern was helping with the wind-chimes, checking they were the proper lengths and that the engravings that needed to go into each were close enough to accurate if his actions were any indicator. Jaina was hard at work on a barrier, etching configurations into the hard-packed dirt around the temple and connecting the twelve incense stands with her warding. Kir let his gaze slip into mage-sight as he headed for her, surprised to see that the halberd she carried was already infused with her power, transferring energy down the shaft to the metal capped base she was using to scrape the runes into the ground. She worked very quickly – craftings like that could take a full moon or two from what he remembered.

 _:Awake?:_ Anur asked, voice soft enough that if he hadn’t been awake he’d have probably ignored it. Kir sent back wordless confirmation and query, his brother responding with, _:You’ve been out five marks, it’s nearly noon. I’m out staking windchimes around the oasis with some others – I think Jakyr is working with Anika to divvy up the incense herbs and the medicinal stuff Solaris sent along with and Devek is helping with food – Solaris sent food, by the by.:_

 _:Excellent,:_ Kir replied, stopping a few steps away from Jaina’s circle, examining the shimmering ward-line. _:Colbern and Jaina are the only ones that came, right?:_

_:Right. Figured it couldn’t hurt, having them here. Gives them something to do and more exposure to what Firestarters’ duties are now. Also, Colbern was apparently driving everyone up the wall with his insistence that he ride out to hunt down the other three immediately.:_

Kir snorted, _:I can see that. Very well, thank you, Anur.:_

_:Of course!:_

“Eldest!” Jaina looked up from her work and smiled brilliantly, looking truly happy, for all that her face was streaked with ashes and sweat, a scrap of fabric keeping flyaway pieces of hair from her face. Kir returned the smile, walking around the perimeter until he was standing next to her, “Very nice wardings,” he murmured. “You always did have a knack for them.”

“You mean I always had a knack for protective and healing magics,” Jaina snorted, “Nothing of true _use_ to a Firestarter, of course.”

“Oh really?” Kir raised an eyebrow, smirking, “I recall quite a few arguments to the contrary!”

“Well of course you do, you helped me research precedent!” Jaina chuckled, inclining her head toward the half-completed circle and returning to business, “It should hold a full moon. I built in a purification web in addition to the incense and chimes Colbern’s helping them finish up, so that should be more than enough to take care of it entirely. Of course, we should check in.”

“Naturally,” Kir nodded, “At the very least I’m going to ask that the replacement sent out has some ability with mage-sight, simply so they can monitor the situation for us as time progresses.”

“Ah, good idea,” Jaina agreed, giving him a thorough looking over and continuing, “How are you doing? Rode all day and night, we hear.”

“It was necessary,” Kir shrugged, “I’ve done worse.”

“Of course you have,” she sighed, “Very well, if you’re recovered then would you mind starting a slow burn in there? You always were good at avoiding interference between spellcastings.”

Kir decided not to mention that he hadn’t used spells to craft his flames in years and instead simply nodded, crooking his fingers slightly and listening for that faint buzz of embers. He paced Jaina as she continued her circle, slow-burning flames soon crackling away across the entirety of the temple’s remnant and dissolving it into ever-finer ash. The breeze kept most of it away from them, but he pulled the stole-turned-scarf over the lower half of his face to be on the safe side – the last thing he needed was to irritate his lungs and start coughing. Anur would be hovering enough with his recent bout with exhaustion, he didn’t need to remind the man of the time he’d been knifed in the lungs.

Or risk Jaina finding out about it. He had always had his suspicions regarding Phyrris’ conveniently accidental death, and technically speaking she _had_ been the one he’d targeted at first. The men of the 62nd had apparently only just been ordered into leaving Nichter alone, he didn’t want to set anyone else after the poor soldier.

Jaina finished the final stroke, raising her halberd turned stave and cracking it into the ground ground with a harsh command in archaic Karsite – ironically, it had become more common in the Sunsguard as a command barked at men to come to attention, rather than it’s original purpose as a declaration of confirmed intent.

It had always been something of an idle amusement, to hear the ritual ending of most complex mage workings used to snap soldiers into parade formality.

A flare of light – visible even without mage-sight – and smoke no longer escaped the circle, instead spiraling upwards as though there were a wall separating the village from the smoldering remnants. Kir let his control of the fire vanish, there wasn’t much left for him to urge to flames anyway, in favor of steadying a swaying Jaina. “Well done, sister,” he said, Jaina giving a satisfied smile as she looked over her work, bracing herself with her halberd.

“It is rather nice, isn’t it?” she agreed, “Thank you, Eldest.”

He would get her to call him by name again one day, he swore. At the least when they were among only Firestarters; having Anur and Solaris alone speak to him by name would grow tiresome quickly.

“Well timed, too,” Colbern spoke up, walking over to them carrying wind chimes and starting to hang them on the hooks of the incense staves intended for that purpose. “We just finished twelve. We have enough supplies for more so they’ll continue to do so, they can always be hung around homes and the new Temple, when it gets built.”

“More could always go to the oasis,” Kir shrugged, “It is not too much of a risk, but water is always quicker to stain – quicker to purify as well, but still. That doesn’t much help those taken in by darkened waters.”

“The _lothga_ ,” Jaina said thoughtfully, Kir nodding confirmation and she continued, “I don’t think anyone has actually heard that full story – just that there was one and it led to Rodri’s awakening.”

“We shall have to tell it then,” Kir said, before letting his tone become grim as he continued, “Later. Right now I want to know what is happening with that other group of blood-mages. They are heading for Hardorn still?”

“Last we heard, yes,” Jaina nodded, expression darkening at the thought of any of witach’s ilk escaping. “No idea _why_ , of course, and at the moment the consensus seems to be to simply watch them run so long as they don’t stop to practice their vile craft.”

Colbern snorted, grumbling under his breath as he hung the wind-chimes villagers were bringing to him. No one seemed remotely perturbed by his litany of violence directed at these unnamed blood-mages, so it seemed it had been a common rant in his marks here. Kir sympathized, the matter was frustrating and not simply because blood-mages were being allowed to breathe a moment longer.

“What I want to know is what in frosted hells they think they’re going to accomplish by heading to Hardorn,” he finally said, raising an arm and returning Anur’s wave of greeting, Aelius trotting up with Riva beside. Judging by the empty saddlebags thrown across his back, the horses had been carrying the windchimes and stakes.

“Whole thing is circled by twenty-one windchimes,” Anur reported, nodding to Jaina as he slid off Aelius’ back and clapped Kir on the shoulder, “Good to see you awake, Kir. Now what was this about Hardorn?”

“Wondering why the blood-mages are heading there,” Jaina replied, her own brow furrowing, “I was under the impression they were simply going where their ilk were welcome.”

“Welcome only so long as they work for Ancar of Hardorn – the entire point of their scheming was to gain power for themselves, I doubt they will bend knee for some foreign king,” Kir snorted, reaching out to pat Riva’s neck and started checking him over. Anur had ridden Riva before, he was in no way worried the gelding had been hurt during the ride last night – Anur would have told him – but it gave him something to do.

Riva blew into his hair while he checked his forelegs and he chuckled, waving a hand absently to keep the gelding from trying to chew on it. Hadn’t happened in a long while, but he still tried every so often, no matter how short Kir sheared it.

“Ha – no,” Colbern agreed, walking over to them after the last windchime had been hung and sharing a nod with Anur. “Not that lot – I ran into them a few times before this and I can guarantee they wouldn’t bend knee to any but a mirror.”

“So if flight isn’t their goal – what is?” Jaina frowned, “This lot _was_ intending to march on Sunhame, correct?”

“Indeed, one of them boasted as much,” Kir confirmed, having heard that much from Anika Brersi during the clean-up they’d managed in the night, straightening from checking Riva’s hooves. “And the only thing I can think of that Hardorn has a dearth of is blood-geased soldier-farmers.”

“You think they’ve actually _allied_ with Ancar?” Jaina demanded, aghast, even as Anur nodded grimly, saying, “Makes sense. Even if they didn’t ally with Ancar officially, the occasional border knowledge-swap happened before the war, they may very well have had… acquaintances on the other side that might be able to arrange a few units-worth of soldiers to march over. And if they should happen to have the control of the spell… wrested from them, well, Karsite priest-mages. Who knows what strange things they’re capable of, in their insular ways?”

“We’re not letting them get that far,” Colbern said flatly, raising an eyebrow at Kir’s thoughtful look and continuing dubiously, “Are we?”

“There aren’t any settlements that close to the border,” Kir said slowly, feeling the thought out at he spoke, part of his mind noticing that Devek was approaching with wary-edged respect, Kalesh tucked in behind him

“Leiutenant Kalesh, the border with Hardorn is deserted at this point, correct?” Kir asked, knowing the answer but wanting them to be involved in the discussion. Jaina and Colbern needed to get used to accepting input from common soldiers that didn’t have a crimson sash to aid them.

“Essentially, yes, Father,” Jakyr shrugged, “No solid settlements within a day’s ride of it at least, nothing truly _permanent_ for two or so. There’s always those desperate that venture closer or smuggle, but not many. Apparently if you get too close to the border down here there’s a tendency to wander across and not wander back.”

Kir grimaced, wondering how that bit of trickery was pulled off, “We’ll have to discuss that,” he said shortly, “It may be something we can ward against – haven’t heard of anything like that in the north.”

“No, it was new to me too, sir,” Jakyr agreed, “And it’s really a bare scrape of a rumor, don’t know anyone who knows someone who’s vanished like that or anything along those lines.”

“You’re thinking of letting Hardornen soldiers cross the border?” Devek tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing, “With all due respect Father, why would you want them to set foot in Karse?”

“Because they’re farmers,” Kir shrugged wearily, remembering the ghosts of Aulch that had been so desperate to escape their former masters, so utterly _furious_ at the idea of Ancar having a scrap of influence over them any longer – so terribly hopeless, convinced of their damnation. “They’re innocents who have been torn from their homes, from their lives, their families tortured and killed before their eyes and mages reaping power from that slaughter to bind them to their will – and that’s if they weren’t forced to participate in the horrors themselves. If they come across the border… we know these lands. We can at the very least grant them clean and quick deaths, but if we could break the geas…”

Anur let out a low whistle, rocking back on his heels and nodding slowly, “That would be damn clean. We’d take strength from Ancar and damage some blood-mages in the backlash of broken geas spells – if we could swing it to send some of that damage Hardorn’s way… Ancar would never know what happened to the troops he sent towards Karse. As far as he was concerned, they’d just disappear and those mages that had been in charge of them would be damaged, if not dead.”

“Dead would be easy enough to arrange,” Jaina said lowly, “Backlash is nasty, the more power saturating the spellwork the better – and to enslave the minds of enough men to make up a decent fighting force? Power would not be lacking, not in the least.”

“Can geases be broken?” Devek asked, brow furrowing, “I’m assuming so, since you mentioned it, but how difficult is it to do?”

“Depending on the mages in question, not at all or far too much,” Kir gave a wry grin at Koshiro’s unimpressed look. He was adapting well to the two unfamiliar Firestarters at least – Kalesh still looked on edge, which was perfectly understandable, “Which is why burning them quickly enough their spirits don’t have time to be reeled back in by those bastards would be a secondary plan.”

“Lumira is quite good at unraveling enchantments,” Colbern commented, “Laskaris made a study of coercion webs at one point too, between the pair of them they’d be our Order’s best bet. Don’t know about the rest of the priesthood – Karchenek might be a decent bet.”

Anur snickered at Karchenek’s name and Kir winced slightly, Jaina groaning and muttering, “I don’t even _want_ to know how you could have possibly gotten on the man’s bad side – he’s the next High Heirophant, really Eldest?”

“It’s more Riva’s fault than mine,” Kir insisted, “Horse doesn’t like blondes, apparently.”

Jaina eyed him, and then eyed the rather blonde Jakyr Kalesh who was standing quite comfortably near Riva before raising an eyebrow again. Kir simply gave her a bland look in return, commenting, “Karchanek is far blonder. Very unusual hair color.”

“Your horse dislikes blondes,” Jaina said dryly. “Yes. I’m sure that was all there was to it. I stand by my statement – I _don’t want to know_. Thank the Sunlord I’m not Incendiary any longer, I’d be grey in a week and gibbering in two.”

“You’d last longer than two weeks,” Colbern said loyally, mouth twitching as he continued, “I’d have put money on three and a half, at least.”

“Oh _thank you_ , Colbern, that is such an endorsement,” Jaina shot back, rolling her eyes, “I don’t suppose _you_ would care for the job?”

Kir and Colbern both barked laughs at that, Colbern shaking his head and saying, “Become First Order Firestarter? I thank you for the confidence, Jaina, but I’m rather fond of breathing, particularly now that things are changing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go hang some more windchimes and muse on screaming blood-mages.”

With that, the grey-haired man walked back to his windchime carving crew, leaving the five of them staring after him with a mix of bemused concern. “Is it all right to say he scares me a little?” Jakyr commented with an idle tone but wary eyes, only relaxing when Jaina responded by snorting and Anur outright laughed.

“I don’t know,” the Herald commented, eyes glinting with mirth, “I rather think he’s how Kir’s going to grow old.”

“Please,” Kir scoffed, “I wouldn’t have the first idea how to use that battle-axe. And I hate screaming.”

“Colbern is one of a kind,” Jaina said fondly, before casting Kir a wry look and continuing, “Though I can see the resemblance, loathing for screams aside. I had best go and help – I haven’t carved windchimes in ages and I feel we’ll be seeing more of them.”

“I’ll show you where the horses are settling, Kir,” Anur said, looking over at the two Sunsguard and asking, “You two know where any more help is needed?”

“People are coming together, nowhere critical,” Devek shrugged. “I’m going to head back to food preparation and distribution, I just wanted to check on you, Father Kir.”

“I’m alive and well,” Kir said dryly, “Though I thank you for the concern. Thank you also for that dialogue,” he tilted his head towards his colleagues and was careful to keep his voice from projecting far, “They need to get used to speaking with soldiers without a sash, and while those two are going to be some of the easiest might as well start somewhere.”

“Tristan is going to be a problem,” Anur grimaced, “Possibly Laskaris.”

“So long as Laskaris is stationed far enough away from north he should be fine,” Kir murmured, Jakyr commenting that he’d head back to helping Anika – first name basis, apparently. Interesting – and smiling slightly at Kir’s nod.

Anur just raised an eyebrow and started walking, Kir keeping pace beside him while they headed for a shelter that was clearly meant for travelers’ horses along with the herds the villagers ran, though at the moment all the goats and sheep were out for grazing for the day.

“A valid enough point,” Anur conceded, “But Tristan – I think he has a problem with the Sunsguard. Hopefully not one based on interactions like with Loshern, I think it’s more a problem with those he considers lower than him – but I don’t know him, could be completely wrong.”

“No, that was my impression as well,” Kir grimaced, “At least with the Sunsguard. I need to speak with Jaina about it – Colbern as well, I suppose. His antagonism for Colbern – it could simply be that he doesn’t approve of Colbern’s desire to dirty his hands with actual fighting, but that could easily bleed over to the Sunsguard in general. I don’t doubt I’ll have problems with him eventually, as I’ll be remaining a chaplain and an active one, not washing my hands of the lowly station.”

He said that last with a sour tone and Anur bumped shoulders with him, Kir looking over and meeting his concerned gaze, “Hey, there’s nothing lowly about it and he’ll learn that soon enough. He’s going to become something of one if war breaks out,” the Herald pointed out, before wincing, “Which could end badly.”

“We’ll break him of some of the disdain quickly enough,” Kir sighed, before shrugging, “Ah well, that is some time down the road. For now, we have Hardornens to save.”

“And an inner-District faction to worry about,” Anur pointed out, Kir waving it aside absently, because of course he hadn’t forgotten. He just didn’t want to consider returning to that city until he absolutely had to.

Anur understood, of course, and obligingly changed the subject.

“Now, what was this about First Order Firestarters having a death wish?”

On second thought, perhaps discussing their return to Sunhame wasn’t such a bad idea.

***===***pagebreak***===***

By nightfall, Anur had managed to almost forget about Kir’s far-too-curt explanation about just how one went about becoming a First Order Firestarter.

But staring up at the ceiling, Kir breathing quietly beside him and Devek snoring softly on his cot – Jakyr had mumbled to himself a few times, but nothing indicating a nightmare so Anur just ignored it – he couldn’t help but wonder. He’d never really thought about just what it meant for Kir to have become a First Order Firestarter – he’d also hardly understood just how rare they were. Jaina and Kir were the only First Order Firestarters around, and before them it had been Verius, the man that had trained them, and Jaina’s predecessor.

Before them, it had apparently only been the Incendiary; never in the history of the Order had there been more than three First Order Firestarters at a time. If Rodri made the rank before Jaina died (because Kir wasn’t going to die before seeing that boy through the ranks, Anur had already sworn it) then it would only be the fifth time it had happened in well over a thousand years.

He had assumed it was a mix of politics and skill, and while he’d been right, he hadn’t realized just how much skill went into it – and just what the consequences of failure were. Knowing Kir’s abilities as he did, he didn’t doubt that the trial had been just as simple as Kir had told him it was, even enjoyable from what he’d said, but still. He’d needed to be _nominated_ for the test, and for someone to nominate a fifteen year old who’d been hiding his talents behind mediocrity besides whatever event had gotten him hailed as a prodigy in the first place –

Anur was quite glad this Verius character was dead. While the man had undoubtedly had a huge influence on Kir’s life and he probably owed the man for his brother’s survival through his acolyte years, he still would be sorely tempted to punch him in the face. Who would _do_ that? And Jaina being thrown into the trial a few months later was hardly any better! Certainly, she’d been twenty or so at the time, but for a freshly ordained twenty-something to be the best option for Incendiary and a quite literal and potentially lethal trial by fire?

It left him looking those older than her with new suspicion, that was certain.

At least it helped explain the relative lack of challenges Kir had received from the other Firestarters. They, at least, knew damn well that someone couldn’t coast their way into the rank with smooth talking and powerful friends.

He was never going to get to sleep at this rate.

Sighing slightly, he sat up and pulled on his boots, dragging his thigh-length coat on over his nightclothes – which were really just an old Sunsguard uniform he’d had to patch a little too often to wear in polite company – before ducking out the door, hunching his shoulders at the cold and stuffing his hands in his pockets as he settled on the stoop. The town was completely silent, no one was out and about despite the relatively early hour; it wasn’t even midnight yet.

He doubted everyone was asleep, but no one else was wandering.

 _:Chosen?:_ Aelius murmured sleepily.

 _:I’m fine, Aelius. Just going to stare at the stars for a bit,:_ Anur sent back immediately, feeling a surge of affection for his Companion. This could hardly have been what Aelius had thought he was getting into, that spring day he’d tracked Anur down and startled him into what could generously be called a pond.

Being Chosen while spluttering in a muddy pool was probably not the _most_ undignified way to go about it, but there certainly weren’t any songs like that floating around! Which was really a shame, it had been rather hilarious.

True to his word, he stared up at the night sky, sliver of moonlight letting the stars take the stage. The tail of the Windrider marked north for travelers in Valdemar – but in Karse that star was the end of the Shepherd’s stave. A constellation he had grown up knowing as the Sisters Six, the weaponsmaster had informed him was actually the Crown, while the arc _Valdemarans_ called the Crown was a sickle, to mark the start of the harvest season.

He thought that one made a lot more sense, and the Windrider had never really looked much like a winged horse to him anyway. A person holding a stick was much more intuitive.

A creak of wood as the door opened and Anur shook his head slightly, his brother coming up to sit beside him wrapped in his own coat. “You should be asleep, Kir,” he murmured.

“I slept half the day away,” Kir replied mildly, following his gaze and continuing, “The stars are beautiful tonight.”

“People will be able to enjoy them now, with summoning banned,” Anur said quietly, “I like that thought.”

Kir pressed their shoulders against each other, saying softly, “I rather like it too.”

They sat in silence for a time, breath fogging in the chill air, and they might have remained like that for marks. It had been known to happen.

But instead, Anur spotted someone else taking advantage of the quiet, walking the streets with no apparent purpose or destination. “Who on earth would be wandering at this hour?” he murmured, catching Kir’s sardonic look and saying defensively, “Well we’re not _wandering_ we’re – contemplating things!”

“When we could be asleep,” Kir replied, keeping his voice low, “I don’t think wandering versus sitting makes any difference. Besides, she has more reason than most to be contemplating anything at this point.”

Anur blinked for a few seconds, before narrowing his eyes and wondering just what it was about that shadowed figure bundled in coats and scarves that gave away an identity even as Kir pitched his voice to carry without being loud and said, “Mistress Brersi.”

Anika Brersi looked up, staring at them over her scarf and clearly surprised to see them awake – she hadn’t noticed them lurking on the stoop then. “Holiness Dinesh,” she murmured, taking a hesitating step towards them before commiting herself to the action and walking over. “Enforcer Bellamy, my apologies for disturbing you.”

“More appropriate for us to apologize, I interrupted deep thoughts,” Kir replied, tilting his head back slightly to continue to meet her gaze. “Would you care to join us? Heavy thoughts can be easier with company.”

He waved his hand to the step-space beside him and she again hesitated before nodding, sitting down with a very careful gap between her and Kir. Kir noticed it, of course, and accommodated by scooting closer to Anur – he just shifted his own seat so he was pressed against the railing. Why they needed a railing for two steps, he didn’t know, but it gave him something to lean on so he wasn’t going to complain.

“It is good to see you well,” Kir said after a few moments of silence, looking out over the square and grimacing, “Though circumstances leave much to be desired.”

Anur snorted, unable to resist pointing out, “To be frank, that’s how we meet half the people we know, Kir.”

“Probably more than half,” Kir conceded, Anur grinning at him and teasing, “Technically speaking, that’s how _we_ met.”

“Which time?” Kir replied, elbowing him in the ribs and Anur spluttered with mock indignation, a smile on Kir’s face as he continued, “The time you set yourself on fire? Or the time you nearly got _set_ on fire?”

“The _latter_ , obviously,” Anur snorted, “Because I was never in any danger the first time.”

“You _still_ insist that you could have made it to snow? No, you were _far_ too drunk to – “

Their banter served its purpose, Anur hearing their audience of one stifling snickers in her mittened hands, “You remind me of my uncle and da,” she managed to gasp, wrapping her arms around her ribs, “They’re _always_ tormenting each other.”

“I think it’s a standby of brothers everywhere,” Anur offered her a grin, “So not too surprised.”

Anika only shook her head, a smile on her face. Kir broke the much more comfortable silence that had fallen, asking, “How is your brother, by the way? We never got the chance to tell you, but he was never in any danger from the Fires – and he certainly isn’t now.”

“He’s quite well,” Anika hesitated before shrugging, “At least, he was last I saw him. I only stayed for a few moons – as soon as that compensation purse came through I gathered up enough to start a bit of a trade and left, settling here because Sister Rhiane knew Father Jak.”

All three of them winced at that, Kir murmuring a prayer under his breath for what Anur knew was at least the twelfth time today. “I’ll have to write her a letter,” Anika murmured, gaze bleak as she stared at the scorched earth where the temple had once stood, not at all far from where they sat.

“We can arrange for it to be delivered, if you finish it quickly,” Kir offered.

“You’re riding out tomorrow after the dawn service, aren’t you?” Anika asked, both of them nodding. That had been the decision they’d come to after staring at some maps and carefully estimating travel times for the four of them, for the blood-mages, and for any blood-bound soldiers they might be fetching from Hardorn.

At least they’d managed to do some basic laundry this afternoon – Anur had been down to his last two pairs of socks, and one never wanted to go long without clean socks. Foot rot was not in the least pleasant.

“I doubt I’ll finish by then, unless I still can’t sleep,” Anika grimaced, “Then who knows how much I’ll get done tonight.”

“Sleeping can be difficult,” Kir acknowledged, continuing, “I wouldn’t doubt if the majority of the town wasn’t sleeping at the moment.”

The woman snorted and said bitterly, “It’s not even _this_. It’s the Nameless – the one you hunted when we met, I mean,” an incredulous laugh escaped, “I now know _six_ Nameless ones.”

“I assign them numbers,” Anur said with a forced cheer, “The one you mentioned is Nameless One, the one you called out is Nameless Two, and so on in order of death.”

“So that’s why you were counting them as they died,” Kir said, “I was wondering.” Shaking his head, he continued tiredly, “It seems hard to believe, that such a thing could happen six times. It speaks to how far the rot in the priesthood had spread, I suppose.”

“It’s not right,” Anika murmured, crossing her arms and bracing herself on her knees, “It’s not _right_ , that they should even – that they can even wear the same _uniform_ as true priests. As Sister Rhiane, Father Jak – as you. It made me so _angry_ , that they would even dare consider themselves _part_ of the same brotherhood. And for them to have fallen so far to be _witach_ – I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to – but there it was, crimson and pulsing and so _ugly_ and he _welcomed them_!”

She slammed a fist into one of the posts of the railing next to her, tears starting to streak down her face even as her lips twisted into a furious snarl, “He _welcomed them_ and called them _brother_ and they smiled and _tortured him_!”

Anur closed his eyes, bowing his head as pieces fell into place. Sister Rhiane had known Father Jak, after all, and had undoubtedly chosen this place as one where the priest could bring Anika back into the fold, to win her _trust_ in a priest again, so she didn’t paint all with the same brush as Eshkal. And the man had done it, had welcomed her and won her over in the moons she’d lived here and for someone who’d probably worked damn hard to win her esteem, to win her trust, to be betrayed like that?

It would hurt.

“You could see it?” and Kir apparently had latched on to an entirely different part of that statement – what in the hell was he even talking about?

“What?” Anika asked, startled out of her furious grief, staring blankly. At least he wasn’t the only one confused.

“The blood magic – crimson and pulsing and ugly, you said. You could _see_ it?” Kir elaborated, Anur blinking as he ran over what she had said and he was right, she had described blood magic in terms of sight. She had _mage sight?_

“I – yes. Not at – not at first, but when the – ah, when Nameless Two,” her lips twitched at the designation at least, so Anur tallied that one as a win, “picked Mistress Vanka as his next victim I could see it surrounding him – this, rusty red _nasty_ color that was disgusting and throbbing when he listened to them sob and he was so _pleased_ to be listening to it and it was _awful_.”

“Blood magic is horrific,” Kir said quietly, “All the more so when you’re aware of the stains it leaves behind. When we were making our way here – the screams followed them in the earth, I could _hear it_ and when I got closer it was even stronger,” Kir shuddered and Anur pressed himself close to Kir’s side, hating that his brother was becoming so sensitive to this poison and hating even more that they’d probably be taking full advantage of it in years to come. “I had to stop and retch twice before arriving here, I barely managed to pull back enough to actually be aware of what was going on before I rode in.”

Now that was a blatant exaggeration, Anur knew. Kir had indeed needed to throw up twice on the way down the mountain, but he’d managed to pare back his sensitivity enough to be aware of what was going on well before he’d hit the flats that marked the final stretch into town. He’d let it slide though, it took less explaining and the point of this conversation wasn’t to be a fully accurate historical chronicle.

It was to let Anika know that what she had seen was abhorrent, was awful, and that it was fully okay to be completely traumatized by what blood-magic looked like. Anur found the _lothga_ more terrifying, but as he’d never been a direct witness to actively practiced blood-magic with mage-sight, only the poison left behind, he had no idea which was more horrifying.

Personally, he still thought it’d be the _lothga_ , but with any luck he’d never be able to make a fully knowledgeable comparison.

With the way his luck ran, he doubted he would be so fortunate.

“I am sorry,” Anika said solemnly, Kir nodding slightly to accept her apology before revisiting the question that had gotten them started, “But you can see it? Can you see it now?”

“I – I don’t know?” she stumbled, eyes darting towards the temple and Kir pounced on that, asking, “What do you see when you look over there? At the scorched grounds?”

“I – I see – “ Anika licked her lips and let her gaze stay on that blackened earth, whispering, “I see red, and black, and pulsing rot, hemmed in by gold and white and silver and fading, at least a bit.”

“Yes,” Kir murmured, letting his own gaze join hers, “That is what I see.”

Anur tilted his head and stared at the scorched temple too, breaking the silence with a shrug and saying, “Nope, just ashes and smoke here. Is the gold and silver and white Jaina’s wardings?”

“Silver and white, yes, the gold is – the gold is calling on the God’s power,” Kir smiled faintly, “Or at least, that’s what I believe it is. Wardings are usually silver, purification webs white – the gold is different.”

“There was golden light during your hunting rite,” Anika murmured, expression losing some of its hauntedness as she heard the _positives_ of what she was now able to witness. “It was like – like liquid sunlight.”

“And during that not-really-exorcism,” Anur recalled the sending-on of the soldier-farmer ghosts near Aulch and felt his expression turn grim, “I hope we don’t need to use that again.”

“Hopefully Jaina and Colbern are able to get Laskaris and Lumira on board with the plan, we should hear from them tomorrow,” Kir sighed, accepting the change of topic gracefully, “I don’t see why they’d _object_ but I don’t really know them – remind me to ask Lumira if she wants to attempt the Second Order trials, particularly if she manages this coercion breaking, it’s absurd that she’s still a Third Order Firestarter.”

“Because I’m _definitely_ going to remember to remind you of that,” Anur said dryly before shrugging, “I’ll try. You’re going to need to start writing these things down, _Incendiary_.”

“Call me that again and I’m setting your hair on fire,” Kir grumbled, “Cursed titles.”

“There are multiple titles?” Anika interjected, hesitant curiousity in her voice, “Their Holinesses Jaina and Colbern called you Eldest, I believe?”

“That’s unrelated to the title of Incendiary,” Kir waved it off, elaborating without even giving her an askance look that might discourage questions – Anur knew that he welcomed them, welcomed near anything that indicated he wasn’t being held on a fearsome, fire-drenched pedestal. “That is simply because I am the First Order Firestarter who has held the rank the longest, I beat Jaina by a few moons. Incendiary is the primary title for the Head of the Firestarting Order, but there are others.”

“And they’re hilarious!” Anur crowed, though careful to keep his volume low as he didn’t want to wake anyone, “Incendiary means _arsonist_ , for one, and then we have Incandesence and Luminary – both of which make it sound like you’re _glowing_ and I’m sure there are more! Just wait till we get back Kir, I’m hunting through the archives for the most ridiculous ones I can find!”

“Make sure to look up the old titles for Enforcer while you’re there,” Kir replied, Anur eyeing that casual smile suspiciously. There was amusement hiding in there, and he had a sinking feeling that if he pushed this title issue, he wasn’t going to be having the last laugh.

“It’s not just – Enforcer?”

“Oh that’s the most common,” Kir freely admitted, “But if you get into ceremonial roles, there are things like Sun’s Brand – which was actually initially the title for any Sunsguard sworn to service in the temple. Granted, none as ridiculous as the ones I’m saddled with, but there are some gems, from what I remember. I’d have to look them up. Actually, I believe you’re the first instance of the Incendiary having an active Enforcer, so there may very well be a special title just for that.”

“That’s never been used?”

“You don’t need a position to be filled for it to exist,” Kir snorted, “It’s a _governing institution_ , there will always be excessive paperwork that no one bothers to read.”

 _:Like your enforcer applications,:_ Anur snickered mentally, not wanting to reference something that they wouldn’t be able to safely explain the humor of.

 _:Precisely,:_ Kir sent back dryly, physically turning to look at Anika again and continuing aloud, “Have you ever seen things like that before? In shades of odd colors and glowing power?”

“No,” she said immediately, expression turning worried again, “What does it mean?”

“Nothing bad,” Kir reassured her, “It’s simply another way of seeing the world. With focus, you should be able to ignore it and see things as you usually do, it will simply take practice. Burning sage and sandalwood can help make things more clear – there are other specific blends but they’re difficult to obtain.”

“Sage and sandalwood,” Anika nodded slowly, “So the incense burning now might be making it more vivid?”

“Entirely possible, I’d even say likely.”

“Well,” Anika sighed, “It is nice to know I’m not going mad then, seeing things that aren’t there.”

“The next priest to be sent out will hopefully have some abilities with mage-sight so they can monitor the stain more effectively, but this will allow you to keep an eye on it as well,” Kir explained, “I’m sure they’d be able to help you manage it if it gets out of hand, but you can always write to me – in Sunhame would probably be the best bet.”

“I thank you,” Anika bowed her head before standing, “I think I had best try and sleep again.”

“We should probably do the same,” Anur echoed, standing and offering Kir a hand to pull him to his feet. Anika gave Kir a searching look, Kir simply bearing her scrutiny before whatever it was she was looking for was apparently found and they exchanged brief blessing gestures before she turned on her heel and departed. At a much more brisk, confident pace than the meandering stroll she’d been practicing when they’d first seen her.

Good. They had helped.

“Come on Anur, riding out tomorrow is going to be blasted unpleasant if we don’t manage to get a few hours at least,” Kir murmured, leading the way inside.

It was strange, Anur mused, shutting the door behind them. He had gone outside unable to sleep because he kept thinking of his brother facing the First Order trials – and nothing of that worry, of that concern had been adressed. Absolutely none of that too-little, too-late anxiety had been resolved.

But nonetheless, he was able to drop straight into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it - at last. Some more Jaina and Colbern development, some hints as to Jaina and Kir's mutual history and BAMF-ery, and some possibilities for Anika's further involvement if anything on those arcs pan out. Up next: The Hardornens! And maybe (finally) The District!
> 
> (Seriously, when I started the Coup arc, I thought it would take a chapter or two from the time Kir and Anur heard from the Sunsguard - hahaha. The Story laughs at my outlines.)


	14. Proportionate Response

“This is an excessive amount of names,” Solaris sighed, examining the list Kir had taken down from the truth-spelled Oathbreaker they’d managed to capture before executing.

“Lumira is staying with her new vassals, Lieutenant Kalesh is staying as a translator to give us time to straighten out his legal status as he could be called a deserter,” Kir continued blandly, lips twitching as he watched Solaris nod along to what he was saying, still focused on the list, before the meaning of what he’d said sank in and she froze.

Anur wasn’t the only one snickering at that expression.

“…Vassals?”

“The Hardornen soldiers she and Laskaris freed from blood-bound coercion,” Kir elaborated, a rueful smile on his face, “The priests apparently had a very simplistic control mechanism, so she stole control out from under them while Laskaris dealt with the underlying Hardornen blood-binding.”

“But it was too powerful for him to unravel and guarantee no backlash would fall on the Oathbreakers,” Anur continued, “So Lumira commanded them to move away from the blood-mages in question, all the while apologizing for having to continue their enslavement for even a moment – and they could hear it.”

“So the moment they were freed, while we dealt with the remaining blood-mage in Karse, getting those names, the others went to speak with them – and the moment they heard Lumira’s voice they dropped to one knee and swore fealty,” Kir finished, unable to hold back a chuckle at the memory of Lumira’s expression when the appointed spokesman had made that vow in Karsite.

Laskaris had nearly fallen over laughing at it, so he felt he’d restrained himself rather well.

“…But priests can’t _have_ vassals,” Solaris murmured faintly, “Our political system doesn’t even have a place for liege lords and vassals…”

“But the Hardornen one does, and I’m pretty sure there’s a portion of the law where a landowner can become a land-holding lord if a significant population swears fealty,” Anur gave a hesitant sort of shrug, “I think… there’s something about new nobility being possible when they’re chosen by the people, can’t say I’ve studied Hardornen law since my Collegia days. Anyway, that makes Lumira a priestess who is also a Hardornen noblewoman, rather than a priestess with Karsite vassals.”

“That’s not any better,” Solaris grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose before focusing on a snickering Kir, “And somehow, this is all your fault, I’m sure of it. There’s no precedent for any of this!”

“There’s not much precedent for anything we’re doing, sister,” Kir shook his head, “You can claim returning to the Old Ways all you want but things aside from that are going to have to change, simply because returning to the Old Ways entirely is impossible – new situations have arisen since then that need to be dealt with differently than we have. This is just one of those. Besides, it simply means we can shove off many of the details of having a refugee group onto Lumira, as they’re her people now.”

“Just assign them as her congregation,” Anur offered, “None of the Firestarters have permanent postings aside from Kir, and you wanted to reform the Firestarters to be a part-time post, didn’t you?”

Kir nodded and picked up the thread of that explanation, finally taking a seat at her impatient gesture. They’d taken their time returning to Sunhame, getting in just over two weeks after they’d left, and after settling the horses had immediately gone to Solaris’ new office to report.

She’d finally gotten one that wasn’t the antechamber to her quarters at least – the idea of a publicly accessible office being directly linked to her quarters had made Kir uneasy.

“Originally Firestarters were only called to their duties as needed, other than that they worked as parish priests, chaplains, scholars – whatever they wanted,” Kir spread his hands while he shrugged, “I think that would be a much better system. We don’t _want_ Firestarting to be all that we do – that implies far too many purifications are needed per year. Even with the old witch-power burning practice, there were only 10 weeks of actual patrolling involved. It’s a waste of resources.”

“Unfortunately that will probably have to wait to implement in full,” Anur settled in his own chair, stretching his legs out with a contented sigh before he continued, “Lumira’s a good start though – Colbern may very well want to return to being a chaplain full time so he can kill blood-mages, and Jaina said something about being good at healing magics.”

“Seras already is more of a scholar who happens to burn than a Firestarter who happens to be scholastically inclined, at least in his time commitments,” Kir added, “Etrius would probably love that breakdown.”

“Valerik – maybe justicar? If he likes plainclothes investigation so much?” Anur offered before laughing, “Though if all he’s after is the bar fights maybe chaplain would be a better fit. Anyway, it’s fully do-able, even with Hardorn being what it is. They just need to be ready to go after blood-mages in combat situations before finding another focus is practical.”

Solaris was just watching them with a smile on her face, hands clasped on her desk and Hansa purring at her feet. “It is good to see you have a vision,” she said, “It proves my choice was wise. Very well, Lumira is responsible for her… vassals. What sort of resources do they need? Shelter, food, the rest?”

“Jakyr was able to guide us to a mostly abandoned township – there are enough buildings in decent condition to provide shelter, and a fair number of the Hardornens know enough to build and repair more. Supplies for rebuilding – we’ll need an accurate count, Lumira’s working on that now – food between their own rather disgusting tasting rations and the stores the few remaining villagers had, they should be all right for a week or two but that will be a problem the soonest,” Anur was ticking concerns off on his fingers, Solaris grabbing a piece of paper and quickly listing them down.

“There are a few in need of medical assistance, I offered what I could but a practicing medic would be better, a healer even more ideal but I know they are thin on the ground,” Kir continued, “Clothes too, I doubt they want to wear those uniforms a moment longer than they need to. Weapons someday, but only if they ask – we don’t want them thinking all we want them for is as an additional fighting force. The township now has more people than plantings, so some seed in the spring to get them started, we’ll also need to find out their crafts and skills so we can figure out how to get them the resources they need to sustain themselves.”

“If some decide to fight, we could work it as a Sunsguard chapter, use them as a model for the mercenaries we’re going to have to hire – pay comparable, of course, so long as they sign a similarly restrictive contract,” Solaris offered, adding that to the list. “Right – you still have my authorization? Word should have spread but there’s a chance people won’t believe you are my Voice.”

“I could hardly lose it,” Kir replied dryly, Solaris snorting and holding the list out for him to take, “Check that over, outside there’s a group of runners so hand that off and have it sent to the charity group, they know how to deal with things like this though the scale is larger than they’re used to. Supplies to that oasis are already en route along with a replacement priest – skilled in mage-sight, as you suggested.”

“Excellent,” Kir smiled, looking up from the list and passing it to Anur for him to review, “In a week I’d like to return to the 62nd, ideally with another priest or acolyte to serve as a replacement when I’m called away.”

“And also you’ll have been in Sunhame for more than ten days this year, the horror,” Solaris scoffed, a smile on her face as she waved his half-hearted protests off, “No, no. Don’t bother, it’s the truth. Clear it with your Firestarters and I’ll figure out your replacement myself – the collaboration across the border is essentially known, yes?”

“Everyone knows,” Kir agreed.

“Right, that will make it a little more difficult,” she nodded, “But I have some ideas. Younger than you, so there’s no question of who has seniority, male because I just don’t want to deal with the mess that could cause with the Sunsguard not allowing women – actually… I think that will work. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

“As for when I’ll need you back,” she continued, grimacing, “It depends on how much you think can be done this week. I want to assign you as my liason to the Generals, there are a few I think need to be encouraged into immediate retirement, while some will be manageable for a while.”

“Are they all present in Sunhame?” Kir asked, and at her nod continued, “Then call a meeting with them at your convenience, I’ll be there and you can transfer their dealings over to me publically and we’ll work from there. Still planning to disband the majority of the internal policing and arm the populace pending investigation?”

“Indeed, with them thinking about what sort of things we truly _need_ guilded mercenaries for and what we should be able to handle with our available troops. We’ll also need to get trusted assessments of the officers, then leave building the units up again with good people to them. We’ll table the opening Sunsguard to women issue for a while – meaning years,” Solaris grumbled.

“The Temple was not built in a day, sister,” Kir laughed, “Though might I suggest announcing that priests can communicate with their families again? It will be some unequivocably good news.”

“I was planning to model it after the Sunsguard cadet contact rules for the acolytes and initiates, with priests being as much or as little as they want to fit around their duties – adequate?”

“More than,” Anur grinned, Solaris nodding and cracking her neck, checking the water-clock and sighing, “Almost time for the noon service – I’ll announce it then.”

“Then we’ll leave you to your preparations,” Kir said, standing and taking the list of needed resources back from Anur.

“And I’ll speak with you later. Vkandis bless, brother.”

“Vkandis protect and guide, sister.”

***===***pagebreak***===***

The runner parroted the instructions back at them before bowing and darting off, Anur shaking his head ruefully at the sight of two entire benches’ worth of initiates waiting for their chance to relay a message from Her Most Holy. “At least it’s not stifling anymore,” he offered, sidestepping around a pair of priests in deep discussion of how to liquidate some of the more horrifically gaudy ornamentation. He approved.

Kir smiled, “It’s much better,” he agreed, the two of them slipping out a side door into the gardens. “And with as much work as there is to be done, it should be sustainable for some time, long enough for people to settle into their new duties in truth, rather than just in an effort to avoid thinking.”

“Except for you,” Anur pointed out dryly, “As I doubt we’re going to be in Sunhame more frequently than absolutely necessary.”

“Two weeks every two moons, I think should be plenty. With a week total travel time, thanks to our horses, that will only be three out of eight away from the 62nd, give or take a few days. Emergencies Kari can relay for us, or Hansa if Solaris has need of us,” Kir shrugged, “Once the others are out of Sunhame it will be easier, as I can check on them en route, and the more they’re out of Sunhame the fewer reasons we’ll have to return.”

“At least until Solaris summons you because she will, if you stay afield too long.”

“I know,” Kir sighed, “But I can still put it off as long as possible.”

“Why do you hate Sunhame so much?” Anur finally asked, having been chewing over the idea while they meandered back towards the city in as winding a route Kir could excuse. “It’s not the politics, not entirely – and the memories doesn’t make much sense either, unless there’s something you’re not telling me – “

Kir laughed at his warning tone, shaking his head, “Because Sunlord forbid I manage to keep some of my life story from you! No Anur, no deeply repressed trauma in the city, no memories I can’t bear to face. Sunhame is just – it’s _noisy_.”

Anur stared, nonplussed, and ran that response over in his head a few times before asking incredulously, “It’s _noisy_? Kir – even with the bustle this is quieter than the barracks have been some days, and you never mentioned it bothering you then!”

He waved an arm to encompass the District – bustling in comparison to what they’d found walking in those unbelievably short weeks ago, but still there was plenty of space between them and the next person, no chance of hearing anything more distinct than a low murmur unless someone shouted. The 62nd had it’s moments of relative peace, true, more than not, but there had been plenty of arguments and challenges and mindless _chatter_ that had been hemmed in by the walls and just-below deafening at times.

Anur was loud himself, and he would hope if his brother was sensitive to volume he’d have _mentioned_ it when he was blathering his ear off over one thing or another.

 _:Not loud like that,:_ Kir replied, the change of medium explaining more quickly than words could just what he meant. _:Your voice could never bother me, brother.:_

Anur paused before responding, honestly touched and letting Kir sense that before sending back _:…Never?:_

_:Oh Sunlord - :_

_:Challenge accepted!:_

“Not the sort of loudness I meant,” Kir said aloud, shaking his head and giving Anur a sharp-edged glance that had everything to do with the conversation no one else had heard. “You remember how I described my manipulation of flames?”

“A hum, a buzz of some sort – but I thought you didn’t actually hear that?” Anur’s brow furrowed as he dug up those memories of Kir’s language-impaired explanation to Griffon and the more recent and less detailed answers to Rodri’s eager questions when they’d visited Axeli.

“Not with my ears, that’s not – loud is simply the best word for it,” Kir shrugged helplessly, “ _Everything_ has that buzz, Anur. People and living creatures just have… more of it. Wood, stone, fabric, even plants and animals – I can make them background noise, can ignore them more easily, but people are very clearly _there_ and it’s always changing pitch and volume because people have a tendency to be _doing_ more, and then in Sunhame there’s mages and others who manipulate natural energy and _change_ that pitch so I can’t ignore it and – it’s _loud_.”

“You don’t like crowds either,” Anur frowned, “Is that why?”

“Beside the obvious?” Kir replied dryly, indicating his robes with a wave of his hand, “One of the main reasons, yes. It’s also much easier for someone to slip a knife in your ribs in a crowd.”

Anur snarled at the memory, freezing momentarily before he hurried to catch up with Kir and demanded, “That was only the once, right? It only happened _once_?”

“It only actually happened that one time,” Kir’s attempt to reassure him left a lot to be desired and Anur vowed to _never_ leave Kir in a crowd unaccompanied again because he knew what exactly Kir was leaving out of that sentence. Someone else had dared to _try_.

He’d get their names one day. And he’d share their names with the 62nd.

If he was feeling particularly spiteful, he’d make Nichter watch so he _knew_ what fate Kir’s guilt-complex had managed to save him from. That should make him properly grateful.

“Anur,” Kir’s voice was undeniably fond and he looked up, realizing he had been grinding his teeth and scowling at the ground. He shook it off and gave Kir a small smile, “I’m fine.”

“I’m sure you are,” Kir chuckled, “Come on, let’s get to the Hall before you manage to set something on fire yourself.”

Something about that idea lodged in his mind, left him thinking it over even as he exchanged greetings with the Firestarters they spotted in the Hall’s antechamber – it looked like they were figuring out how many chairs they needed to replace.

“Do you think I could do that?” he finally asked, Kir looking up from where he’d been unpacking the saddlebags Kari had been kind enough to deliver to their room.

“What?” Kir asked, momentarily bewildered before something of Anur’s idea made it through their mental link and he grew thoughtful, “I honestly have no idea. There’s nothing really – _known_ about what this is between us.”

 _:Talia can see through Rolan’s eyes and vice versa, there were tests done on it – and I can see through yours, Chosen, when you aren’t consciously blocking me from it,:_ Aelius spoke up, _:Also, they’re bribing us with absolutely delicious hot mash. I’m fine with staying in Sunhame longer.:_

 _:You’ll get fat, witch-horse, fat and smug and lazy,:_ Kir shot back before returning his focus to the question, continuing, _:Perhaps that should be tried first – seeing through each other’s eyes? My range is as far as my eye can see – and I don’t need to actually_ see _to affect things, I just need to know where it is in relation to me…:_

 _:So in theory if you were able to see through my eyes you could use that perspective to light things on fire,:_ Anur nodded slowly, pulling his own bags towards him to unpack too. Perhaps he should leave a spare uniform here? He had three, not counting the one he’d left at the 62nd, so he could spare one as a just-in-case gesture. _:Though that could be disorienting – we’d have to practice just sitting down or something, not while we walk.:_

_:But if we could upgrade it to that – could you do something similar, I wonder? Look through my eyes – if we can even do that – and Fetch things?:_

_:I Fetch ‘around’ you in combat all the time,:_ Anur replied thoughtfully, _:And you never set anything you don’t mean to on fire, so there’s some precedent for us not_ seeing _what we’re manipulating with our own eyes…:_

 _:Either way, something to be left until we’re with the 62nd again,:_ Kir reminded them both, _:So let’s unpack and work on something we_ can _do while we’re here.:_

_:Oh?:_

_:I think it’s time I examine the acolytes’ skills. And Rodri’s.:_

_:Incendiary,:_ Anur said fondly, rolling his eyes as he followed Kir out again. As much as the title was hilarious, it fit all too well.

 _:Not just for Kir either,:_ Aelius observed, and now that Anur was watching for it he could sense a presence behind his eyes that seemed to indicate Aelius sharing his gaze, not just speaking to him. He couldn’t wait to start experimenting with that – it sounded ridiculously useful and not just for tricking people into thinking he was a Firestarter or Kir could Fetch.

 _:Rodri, at least, is having at least as much fun with it,:_ Anur agreed, hiding a smile as he watched Rodri scowl at the small fire crackling in front of him. Kir had quickly found the three students of the Order working over some assignment or another in the library, and when he’d asked if any of them would like to practice flame manipulation all three had practically sprinted into the courtyard.

Etrius had listened to Kir’s assignment and explanation – buzzing hum and all – to Rodri before turning to his task of dealing with different fuels. The storage shed in the corner of the courtyard had a minimal amount of gardening tools, the majority of it devoted to training tools for fire-based learning. Anur had honestly never seen that many massive chunks of charcoal in one place before. Maltin had done similarly, but had asked questions more in line with mage-craft fueled flames so Kir had simply asked him to demonstrate what he could do.

Somehow it involved music, and Anur was fairly itching to interrupt and figure out just what was happening with that, because it looked _different_.

Once he worked up the courage to walk past two experimenting Firestarters, he’d be right there. He just… needed a moment.

Or three.

 _:I’ve got you, if you want to come over here,:_ Kir murmured, casting a quick glance in his direction from where he was mostly focused on Maltin. _:It’s not quite mage-craft, there’s something else fueling it and you’re more likely to identify it than I am.:_

 _:Witch-power you think?:_ Anur asked both his mental companions, taking a breath before briskly walking over to Kir, feeling the muscles in his neck knot up when Rodri’s fire popped as he walked by.

 _:Not Firestarting or Fetching, I would recognize those,:_ Aelius told them both, _:Give me a moment – it’s subtle.:_

 _:And I’m pretty thoroughly shielded,:_ Anur pointed out, listening to the probably original tune Maltin was playing on his flute. It was strange, for such a light instrument to sound so strident, so strong.

It called to mind a distant roar –

Flames surged in his minds eye, distant sparks suddenly scattering on his skin and he inhaled sharply, tar-scented heat searing his lungs _he-didn’t-want-to-die!_

_:CHOSEN!:_

“Anur!”

Flames he knew, he _knew_ those fires, blast it all he was better than this, carefully circled his mind and Kir’s presence settled around him like a comfort, a reminder that fire didn’t have to be terrifying if he was standing with his brother. He opened his eyes – when had he closed them? – finding Kir standing in front of him, blocking Maltin’s flames from sight and resting their foreheads together, one hand curled around the back of his neck.

“Back with us?” Kir murmured, Anur nodding slightly and pulling back, Kir letting him go but continuing to watch him worriedly. He ran a hand over his face and exhaled slowly, “Well. That was – not fun.”

 _:That is the most utterly_ bizarre _usage of the Bardic Gift I’ve ever seen,:_ Aelius said flatly, _:Never, ever lower your shields even slightly around that boy again.:_

 _:Agreed,:_ Anur winced, cracking his back and looking over at Maltin who was watching him with worried eyes, and from the quiet behind him he wasn’t the only one.

“Seems you’ve a knack for illusions,” he temporized and Maltin winced, nodding hesitantly as he said, “I’ve been… told that. I’m sorry, Lieutenant Enforcer I didn’t think it would – I’ve never done it on _accident_ before.”

“I was already tense,” Anur waved away his concern but made a mental note nonetheless, because an out of control Bardic Gift was the _last_ thing they needed. He’d have to figure out a way to get the resources to him without giving away his sources – not that he had many, he’d been friends with some Bards of course, but he’d never gotten into detailed discussions of using their Gift. “Wasn’t so much an illusion as it was a memory, and that one’s probably been overdue for a flashback,” he elaborated, not wanting the acolyte to feel guilty about something he truly had no control over.

Not that his lack of control made it _better_ per se, but he shouldn’t feel guilty about it.

_:You certain you’re all right?:_

_:I’m fine, Kir,:_ Anur reassured him, continuing aloud, “Though I think I’ll go make myself some tea – and watch from the window, and try _not_ to think about getting set on fire,” he grumbled the last, Kir squeezing his shoulder briefly before nodding, whispering mentally, _:I’m sorry, Anur.:_

 _:Oh please, you are the last person allowed to feel guilty about this,:_ Anur retorted, rolling his eyes now that no one could see the out-of-place reaction, stepping into the kitchen and letting a relieved sigh escape once the door shut behind him. _:Not only did you save me in the first place, you’re the only reason I can stand anything larger than a cooking fire anymore. Now get to teaching those kids. Aelius and I will try to figure out a way to explain the Bardic Gift without giving away our origins.:_

_:Bardic Gift? I don’t believe I’ve heard of that one…:_

_:It’s a special form of projective empathy, I think is how it breaks down.:_

_:Like the witch-powered Loshern sent our way?:_

Anur shuddered at that memory, not caring that Seras was in the kitchen with him, reading quietly in one of the armchairs Kir and he had dragged in one of their first days here. That reaction could easily be played off as a delayed reaction to his flashback out there.

He eyed the kettle thoughtfully before filling up a mug directly from the tap and heading back to the window, dropping his chosen tea blend in – the spice-cake tea, of course. _:Yes, like that one. Tea please?:_

The glass was thick-paned and bordered with colored panels, but he could still easily see Kir look over at him and an exasperated sort of fondness filtered through before his tea was steaming. He beamed, knowing that even if Kir couldn’t see him, he’d know, and raised his mug in a toast. _:Thanks Kir!:_

 _:Just drink your tea,:_ Kir definitely rolled his eyes before turning back to Maltin and directing him to continue. Anur was more than content to watch from the window and enjoy his mug of deliciousness. A much safer endeavor, that.

“His control really is marvelous,” Seras commented after a few more moments of silence, Anur looking over at him and inclining his head slightly, certain the man wouldn’t have interrupted the quiet for a rather obvious comment.

The older man chuckled, setting his book aside and rising to his feet, slowly pacing over to stand next to Anur and look out into the training courtyard as well. “I’m surprised you’re not out there with him. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen one of you without the other within arm’s reach – and I don’t think that’s simply because neither of you trust Sunhame.”

“So you missed my panic attack out there?” Anur replied dryly, Seras clearly startled and raising an eyebrow in a mute demand for an explanation.

“Maltin has a knack for illusions – weaves it into his music, if my guess is right,” Anur gave a half-hearted shrug, “And as he was focused on flames…”

“You don’t care for flames,” Seras said, sounding honestly surprised, “Then why - ?”

“Because Kir knows what the hell he’s doing,” Anur snorted, “Amateurs are more dangerous than the best trained swordsman, and that holds in this too, I’m sure.”

“Oh most definitely,” Seras winced, obviously remembering some disastrous amateurs and their probably scorched – and apparently possibly explosive – fates.

They stood in silence a while, watching as Rodri continued to struggle with manipulating a flame Kir controlled without wresting control from him entirely. It was an advanced exercise from what Anur understood, and one that would be useful if the boy ever needed to act subtly against mages.

“Would you have killed them?” the priest asked abruptly, Anur blinking at the strange question but before he could ask for clarification, Seras continued, “The acolytes that were hassling Maltin. Had they… acted, as they claimed. Would you have killed them?”

Anur refrained from a flippant answer, but nonetheless hardly needed to think about it. Not only did Maltin in no way deserve that, those _scum_ didn’t deserve to ever have authority over another person (how long had it been happening, how early had Eshkal gotten his start?).

It was too easy to imagine a young Kir threatened similarly, treated as unkindly. It hadn’t happened, he _knew_ that, knew it in his bones, but Kir had few fond memories of Sunhame. Looked on the Brotherhood of Vkandis as a den of vipers full of true malice rather than an honest desire to survive, and wretches like those Maltin had been forced to deal with for far, far too long undoubtedly had a very large hand in it.

“Nothing would have stopped me,” Anur said firmly, looking over and holding Seras’ gaze, something in his gut telling him this was important, that making sure Seras believed him was vital. “It may have taken months, years, if Solaris had still forbidden it. But I would watch to make sure no others were hurt in the meanwhile, and I would kill them.”

Seras’ dark eyes seemed to be digging into his very soul, but he simply stared back. There was nothing to fear in his declaration, nothing that could be used against him.

Woe to anyone who tried.

“I have a policy, when it comes to removing threats to our Order,” Seras said finally, breaking the staring contest and looking out the window once more, gaze clearly fond as it rested on his own student. “When it comes to removing threats to _mine_ ,” he added lowly.

“I kill them myself, or I hire a professional.”

Looking at Seras now, with none of the worry over the Order’s future clouding his brow, none of the uncertainty as to just what this new Incendiary intended keeping him hesitant, Anur could believe it. Seras had risen to Second Order Firestarter, was held in high esteem and even affection by all the others of the Order, even Kir, who hadn’t been back in years.

He had survived and thrived in the heart of Sunhame, and that took a ruthlessness Anur was surprised the man managed to conceal so very well.

“Why tell me this?” Anur asked finally, taking another sip of his properly lukewarm tea.

“Because I am old,” Seras sighed, “I am old, and I am tired. None of the others have the temperament for it – Dinesh might do, but he has an old guilt in his eyes and I would not burden him unnecessarily. But you – some guilt you may have, but more importantly, you have _him_. You have his back, and you have him to turn to, should you think he would help, should you think _you_ need help.”

“Colbern?” Anur hazarded, Seras barking a laugh, “You would think so, wouldn’t you?” the man asked rhetorically, a fond sort of frustration Anur knew all too well on his face. “No, Colbern has helped once or twice, but for the most part I’ve dealt with these matters alone. He is too straight-forward, has no patience for long-term traps.”

“It’s been that frequent?” Anur grimaced, “Unfortunately, I can believe that.”

“Actually, not so much in recent years,” Seras chuckled ruefully, “I rather overextended my reach some years ago, made me… hesitant to act.”

Anur raised an eyebrow, hearing the hint of a story and guessing that Seras had never quite told anyone about it – making the lingering guilt and hesitation all the worse. Otherwise, Maltin’s tormenters may have been dealt with sooner, though hopefully not quite so permanently since they were just arrogant, spiteful wretches at the moment with no true _crimes_ to their names. Yet.

“I spend much of my time in the archives,” Seras murmured finally, crossing his arms and watching Etrius expound on some point with Kir listening patiently. “Perhaps six years ago I was searching for some texts for reference when I found an initiate devouring dry old texts like they were life-water, taking a true joy in the work and I couldn’t believe some archivist hadn’t snapped him up yet, he had such potential.”

“I helped him with a translation he was struggling with,” Seras laughed softly, expression so very clearly fond it seemed impossible that just a few short minutes ago he had been discussing arranging the assassination of those he called threats. “And somehow every time I was in the main archives I found that same boy, got tracked down in the stacks to answer questions, to simply discuss something he had read – he is such a treasure. I had so _missed_ someone with that fire to question, with that desire to _know_ just for the _sake_ of it, Sunlord that I managed to get him.”

“He came to me distracted, once,” Seras’ voice was abruptly distant, a remembered edge of fury coating his words, “Distressed. It took some time, but finally he told me of difficulties he’d been facing – he was an orphan, you see. Joined the priesthood when he truly could have stayed away, because he knew it was his best chance to learn, to read, as he had fallen in love with during Temple lessons.”

“How the others hated him,” an ugly tone, that whisper, and as unnerving as it might have been – Anur could understand the source. “How they _loathed_ , that this orphan boy, this street-rat, could rise to be their equal, to be their _superior_ because he _was_ , so very, very much better than any of them. And finally, one of them dared to threaten him, to go from absent-minded cruelty to true _injury_ and Etrius was _crying_.”

“You killed him,” Anur said.

“I _burned_ him,” Seras growled, and Anur flinched, the scent of scorched flesh rising in his memory. “And made sure he _knew_.”

“Does Etrius know?” Anur asked after a few moments of silence.

“Probably,” Seras sighed, tension dissipating and the coiled fury he’d been fairly glowing with buried once again. “I waited a week or two after he had come to me, but rather immediately offered him a spot as my acolyte in the Firestarter Corps. The others of his cohort undoubtedly think he arranged it; keeps them respectful.”

“Keeps them terrified,” Anur corrected.

“Eh, good enough for my purposes,” Seras shrugged, “But after I’d realized that – I knew I had overreacted. A few punches wasn’t worth burning someone alive. He could have gotten better, learned humility – I’ve seen stranger, more dramatic transformations in my years. But I didn’t give him the chance. I was too… accustomed, I suppose. To dealing death. To serving as judge and executioner, even in realms outside my technical purview.”

 _:A few punches?:_ Aelius asked, aghast, and Anur was equally appalled. Brawls happened all the time, they simply _did_ , and for a punch to the wrong face to result in being _burned alive_?

He may understand some of where Seras was coming from, but that lack of restraint – he couldn’t. It was so very, very wrong. Perhaps not as despicable as those Nameless, as those called Oathbreaker, but that was only because Seras clearly realized he had been in the wrong, had stopped that behavior.

Had he been told that story before meeting the man, had he been informed of a priest who burned an initiate alive for punching somebody he was fond of – he wouldn’t have hesitated to recommend that they be dealt with. Someone with that sort of impulse, with _burning alive_ to be considered the appropriate response to a _punch_ – no. Solaris didn’t need someone like that in her reforms.

Hells, he had _stabbed_ an acolyte, the only reason Seras wasn’t turning that unreasonable fury on him was because the acolyte in question had acted against Maltin first.

“That seems a little… disproportionate,” Anur said delicately.

Seras snorted, a bitter tint to his voice as he said, “Oh trust me. I know I’ve wound up a monster. But Etrius isn’t. _Jaina_ isn’t, miracle of miracles. And Dinesh – Kir, Sunlord that someone like that could wear our robes in these times. That someone with balanced judgment, with clear vision could be Incendiary again – I’m so grateful that I could live to see it.”

“Eh – you’ve clearly never seen Kir on a rampage,” Anur chuckled, nodding slightly to acknowledge Seras’ statement before he spoke.

The older priest simply scoffed, “Please. And for what _reasons_ did he go on that rampage? I used to have reason, when it came to that self-appointed duty of mine. I would only go after those who truly did _harm_ , but were too powerful for me to reach – Phyrrus was one. He went after Jaina first, but the Incendiary managed to divert his attention and paid dearly for it, though it’s obviously worked out in the end.”

“Verius was heartbroken,” Seras murmured before returning to his explanation, “He was a summoner, and overconfident to boot, so arranging a distraction one night was simplicity itself.”

“When did it change then?” Anur asked, making a mental note to one day drag the story of this Phyrrus out of Kir, because it promised to be a good one. Infuriating, he would bet, but good. Especially because they could laugh over how it had turned out the exact opposite of what that scum’s desires had been in the first place.

“It was slow, as most of those things are,” Seras sighed, shrugging half-heartedly, “It became quicker to occur to me, killing, rather than watching for a while. I… lost my patience, grew frustrated when I had to work around someone when I could so easily arrange for them to just be – swept aside. Colbern and Jaina helped, but with Colbern having even less patience than I and Jaina having enough difficulties it wasn’t enough to keep me restrained.”

“Colbern is fortunate, I think,” the priest sighed, seeming to change tacks entirely, “Those he cares about deeply are his equals, he’s never had much patience for the youth. Oh he would protect them, would defend them to the death, but he doesn’t _love_ , not like that. Verius loved his students, each and every one, and when they inevitably died or were sent off or made _enemies_ his heart broke a little more. Kir and Jaina’s bunch was just the last straw, I think. It was only a few weeks after the Phyrrus incident that he died, after all, a mere day after he got their Ordination approved.”

“You were close with him?” Anur asked, honestly curious about the man that had trained Kir, for all he still felt he owed the man a punch in the face.

 _:Depending on the answer to that question you may want to rethink the punching plan,:_ Aelius pointed out, mind-voice still shaken and Anur didn’t blame him one bit.

“We were year-mates,” a rueful chuckle turned into a full laugh, the other man continuing, “We balanced one another out, I suppose. With him gone I got caught up in my mental games, my plans and intelligence and desire to _know_ at any cost and Colbern stayed away from Sunhame longer every year, hunting down any excuse to do _something_ he thought was meaningful without much care for what people thought about it.”

_:That’s a no on punching then.:_

_:Well if we’re all dead when this happens, I can’t be burned alive, right? If we end up in Sunheart?:_

_:Can you punch someone in Sunheart?:_

_:Well Kir owes Kris a punch, so odds are good we’ll figure something out.:_

“Before you go after anyone else, if you feel the need to, could you ask me first?” Anur finally suggested. “I’m sure Kari would be willing to help, if I’m not actually here, but – your judgment is flawed, you admit that.”

“I admit that freely,” some remaining tension bled out of Seras’ shoulders and Anur restrained the urge to shake his head in disbelief. “I hope that I won’t need – won’t feel the need – to act in such a manner anymore. But if I do – I’d greatly appreciate a more moderate pair of eyes.”

“I’d greatly appreciate you having a more moderate pair of eyes,” Anur said, unable to keep the entirey of how disturbed he was from his face.

The man saw it, and gave a regretful sort of smile as he stepped away from the window. “My apologies,” he murmured, “For dropping this on you.”

“Better me than Kir,” Anur shook his head, but felt obligated to caution, “Though he’ll know soon enough.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Seras said calmly, picking up his book and leaving, but not before giving Anur a slight bow that he really didn’t want to consider the implications of at the moment.

Instead, he’d quietly freak out over how a _punch_ could end up with being _burned alive!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two years have now come and gone - and if you consider productivity by year, this second year was... ahem.
> 
> FINALLY broke the wall on this chapter (so many rewrites, so many silly, unimportant scenes I kept trying to shoehorn into things...) and really hope it doesn't disappoint.
> 
> And Seras? Yeah, no idea where he came from. He was supposed to just be something of a badass old man who'd dealt with Phyrrus, even though Kir thought it was Jaina (Seras got there first), and turned into... someone kind of terrifying. And by kind of, I mean a lot.


	15. Audacity

Something had been bothering Anur most of the day, in addition to the panicked flashback Maltin had accidentally induced, so Kir wasn’t exactly surprised to wake up to Anur hunched in on himself and shaking at the edge of the bed.

Sitting up, he swung his legs over so they were sitting next to one another, pressing their shoulders together and murmuring, “Brook?”

“Ugh,” Anur grimaced, “I wish it was just memories, but my nightmares decided to get _creative_.”

Frowning, Kir wrapped an arm around Anur’s shoulders and tugged him closer, the Herald practically collapsing against him and he hissed. Nightmares, twisted memories – they happened to both of them more frequently than they’d like but the last time Anur had been like this, half-curled against Kir’s chest and _trembling_ , he had just finished killing Cristan.

“Is there anything I can do?” he finally asked, Anur huffing a laugh and saying into his shirt, “Just – tell me something. Would you burn someone alive for punching me in the face?”

Kir could feel his eyebrows climb up his forehead at that question. What could that _possibly_ have to do with Anur’s nightmares? And for that matter, how could his response possibly be in doubt?

“That seems a little… overzealous,” he finally offered, keeping his tone mild. “Perhaps their hair, so long as they were awake to notice – and it was long enough their scalp wouldn’t immediately be scorched.”

Another quiet laugh, this one slightly hysterical and Kir grabbed one of the blankets folded at the foot of the bed to wrap around both of them. This was going to be a longer one, he could tell.

“Did someone threaten you?” he asked, reminding himself to keep his tone mild still, because if Anur was somehow worried about him being disproportionately overprotective, snarling a demand about who had _dared_ to frighten him so would be counterproductive in the extreme.

“No no, nothing like that,” Anur was quick to reassure him that, at least, hadn’t happened. “Just – not all your Firestarters are so clear-sighted.”

“Someone burned another person alive for punching them?” Kir asked, aghast. Here he had thought that by some miracle they had wound up with a group of Firestarters that _didn’t_ need to be trimmed down immediately!

“Not them, for – for punching Etrius – a few times, I think it was a brawl, some sort of escalation from verbal taunts and torments to physical and it just – he _burned one alive_ Kir and I think it took him _months_ to realize he’d probably overreacted – probably! I stabbed acolytes Kir!”

Seras, Kir realized, no one else would be so homicidally protective of that particular acolyte and it explained quite a bit about the teen – the darkly amused edge when he spoke of his dorm-mates not being a problem, the bite to his smile when he promised Maltin’s tormenters had been cowed, if only temporarily. Even unconfirmed, the knowledge that there was someone that utterly devoted to your well-being and happiness could do quite a bit.

And if you happened to just never clarify who, exactly, had reported and arranged what, it was amazing what people would believe you capable of.

He had taken the wind out of a few sails with bland smiles at mention of Phyrris’ death, his first years in the Sunsguard.

Phyrris, good Sunlord if Seras had gone after an initiate for harming one he viewed as his – perhaps it hadn’t been Jaina at all, who’d dealt with that thorn. It made more sense than the fresh Incendiary managing something like that, but he hadn’t been about to make the mistake of underestimating her.

Instead he’d been underestimating the truly eldest of them.

“Seras,” Kir murmured, not needing Anur’s shudder to know he was right. “He told you this?”

“Wanted to know what I’d have done, if Maltin’s tormenters hadn’t just been talk – I’d have killed them, I said. And I would have.”

“I would have helped,” Kir nodded, even the thought of such a thing happening sending a spike of rage through him, “That’s not disproportionate.”

“No, but – he said he’d done similar things before, had had reason before, been careful but finally it was just too easy, too quick, to kill for offense and insult and excuse it as protection. He hasn’t, since that initiate but just – the idea that it could _happen_ I stabbed them it was nonlethal but what if next time I _don’t_?”

“You won’t,” Kir said confidently, talking over Anur’s muttered response and making sure to enunciate every word, “You _won’t_ , Anur. Herald. You couldn’t. You may react, you may respond violently, but you would never _kill_ on accident. And the moment you thought it over, you’d be able to discern if death was necessary and you’d _never_ choose death needlessly. If anything, it is _I_ who should be worried about that – you can’t kill someone with no more than a slight shift of focus, Anur. You need to very deliberately act and that gives you time to catch yourself, gives Aelius and I time to catch _you_ , if you are truly unreasonable.”

 _:It is precisely for this, that I am here, Chosen,:_ Aelius murmured in both their minds, _:It is one of our purposes, our core callings, to keep our Heralds from going insane, because that’s what it is, Chosen. To respond that disproportionately to something – to go from a_ brawl _to condemning a child to death – it’s not the behavior of a rational person.:_

_:Besides, I know you, Chosen-mine. You would never.:_

Anur calmed, somewhere in the middle of their assurances. Stopped shaking, his mental presence losing some of the frayed hysteria that set Kir’s teeth on edge and temper to snarling because his brother was hurting, and simpy breathed.

Letting that silence stand, Kir rested his head on top of Anur’s and let his eyes slip half-closed, knowing that he, at least, was too on-edge to sleep right now but that was no reason to keep Anur from rest. The Herald needed it more than he did at the moment, with how emotionally stressing the day had wound up being for him.

As he had figured, within a few minutes Anur had fallen back into somewhat restful sleep, because an odd position or posture was hardly going to keep that contortionist from dreaming.

“Kari,” he murmured.

A golden wash of flame, muted, not as bright as it could have been, left the distinctively mottled Firecat sitting next to him, eerie blue eyes fixed on his face.

“You knew of Seras’ past… poor judgments?” he asked, the Cat giving a rolling shrug he decided to interpret as basic knowledge, but with no particulars.

“I would consider it a kindness if you would keep an eye on all of the Firestarters for that sort of behavior,” Kir took a steadying breath, closing his eyes briefly before refocusing on the Cat, “In particular, keep an eye on me.”

Because while he would not burn someone alive for punching Anur, depending on circumstance he would feel little guilt indeed for crippling them. For scarring them permanently, for _marking_ them because Anur was his _brother_. More frightening was the fact his control of flames didn’t require him to be in the same room, in the same vicinity – so long as he kept a light touch on their internal buzz, he could be across a village and burn their hearts to ash in their chest or flare a candle into their eyes, even burn the support beam of a roof to send it crashing down.

He had trained himself to be creative, to be efficient and to be subtle. Burning swarms of bandits to ash, setting fire to half the Hardornen countryside with Griffon, containing a firestorm with a ghost’s assistance – they were all very awe inspiring, very powerful.

Very _obvious_. So obvious, in fact, that who would think he could do otherwise? Who would consider for more than a moment that it could have been him who caused Cristan to die in his sleep those nights ago? There would have been scorch marks, had he been involved. The scent of smoke, at least.

It was one of the reasons he was truly _terrified_ of the idea of remaining in Sunhame. It was loud, yes. He had few fond memories of the place, also true. But Sunhame was a vipers’ nest, Solaris’ reforms aside, and he feared what would happen, what damage he could cause, if he took this District’s poison into his heart. Perhaps after Solaris had been in power a few years, maybe even a season, were she truly efficient, he would consider it safe.

Seras was simply a horrifyingly blatant example of what could happen if one stayed in Sunhame too long, if one dealt with the power plays and shadow games that were once carried out as a matter of course. That were probably still happening in corners and hidden alcoves, and would forever. This was the seat of a government, some of those dealings couldn’t be avoided.

One of his worst nightmares was waking up to find he’d burned half the world to ash, a fate he’d once taunted Griffon with. The most fearsome part was how _easy_ it would be to wipe a city off the map, leave it nothing more than an ash-stricken wasteland.

 _:You will not fall to such depths,:_ Kari said to him directly, Kir hardly flinching at it. He was going to resign himself to hearing from more than Anur and Aelius soon. _:And I think, this night, it is the pair of you that need me to fend off foul dreamings. Get resettled; you, at least, can’t sleep like this.:_

Kir didn’t have it in him to argue, so just lay back, dragging Anur with him and pulled the blankets back over the both of them. Kari settled across his stomach, unaccountably light, for a creature of his size, and purring.

His fingers were tangled in Kari’s fur before he knew it, and he was drifting off, finally understanding what Anur’s fluffy and huggable comment had meant those short weeks ago with _:It is my turn now, Elder,:_ following him into sleep.

***===***pagebreak***===***

By some miracle, Anur managed to keep a straight face until they’d gotten all the way back to the Firestarter Hall, and restrained himself to a grin until they reached the kitchens. But the moment those doors shut all hope was lost.

“It’s not that funny,” Kir grumbled, one arm supporting Anur as the man collapsed into laughter, Aelius’ mental snickers really not helping matters at all.

“Ah – your Illuminatorious?” one of the generals’ aides asked hesitantly, Anur just pointing at the man and laughing harder, Kir rolling his eyes and letting him drop to the floor, the Herald leaning against Kir’s legs and _howling_.

“Just – put the papers on the table,” Kir sighed, waving a hand towards the table in question. Two aides had been volunteered into helping trek paperwork back to the Hall, because apparently the idea of Kir and Anur actually carrying their _own_ paperwork was just too much for the already stunned generals to bear.

“And if you could restrain yourselves to Incendiary, as a title, and perhaps pass that on?” Kir asked hopefully, the men finally comfortable enough to at least exchanged amused looks before they bowed to him, saying, “Of Course, Incendiary,” and departing.

“Really Anur?” Kir grumbled, stepping away and letting Anur drop onto the floor entirely, the Enforcer sprawling on the wood and snickering. “I _will_ find the ridiculous titles for Enforcers, or Vkandis witness I’ll _make some_.”

“Illuminatorius!” Anur crowed, finally sitting up and managing to stop laughing as he went for the tea cupboard, Kir digging through the pantry for something more substantial. “That’s by far the best title! Bests Luminary by far! And Incandescence! _Illuminatorius!_ ”

“By Ari, who would use _that_ ancient formality?” Colbern demanded, sticking his head in from the courtyard, having undoubtedly heard Anur’s hysterical laughter. “Oh no – don’t tell me, the generals?”

“First thing they said,” Kir sighed, “I’m just glad this one managed to refrain from laughing in their faces. It would have completely undermined the hardline message we were trying to send. Undoubtedly there’s a line outside Solaris’ door of men anxiously waiting for the chance to hand in a resignation, I’ll bet by the time a moon or two are out we’ll be left with half the number of generals in the overall council.”

“Which is just as well because the council was an oversized thing anyway – what possible use could there be in ten generals? There’s the cavalry bandit-hunters, the foot units, and a couple river and lake groups. Three, perhaps five, if they want to have a separate representative for the corpsmen and training schools,” Anur pointed out, “If half of them quit, then that saves us the work of figuring out which positions we can cull.”

Kir could see Colbern out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head and looking both disbelieving and disquieted as he left, having satisfied his curiousity. He’d have to pull the man aside and discuss the changes that were coming with him; hopefully having a chance to brace himself would make them easier to swallow, particularly for someone so apparently hung up on chains of command and following to the letter the proper channels of authority.

Kir had to wonder, though, if Colbern would be half so devoted to chains of command if his status as a Firestarter didn’t happen to trump most of them.

 _:Probably,:_ Anur commented, _:You were projecting again.:_

 _:I really don’t think I was,:_ Kir replied doubtfully, _:You and Aelius aside, I’m far too used to keeping everything behind shields – the consequences weren’t worth considering otherwise.:_

 _:All right, not projecting for anyone else, but for me? I could hear you loud and clear,:_ Anur took a seat next to him, the two companionably splitting the food Kir had pulled out while their tea steeped.

 _:As could I,:_ Aelius chimed in, _:But as you said, Chosen, it wasn’t projecting for anyone else.:_

Kir just nodded thoughtfully, using the gesture to switch conversational mediums and saying, “So which stack of papers do you want to take?”

“Ugh,” Anur grimaced, eyeing the rather impressive armfuls the aides had deposited for them. “I guess I’ll take the ones on the right? Personnel evaluations are the priority, right?”

“Captains, yes. Then chaplains,” Kir sighed heavily, “Even coming up with some sort of regular criteria would be helpful – then we can at least hand the checklist to others and eliminate some of the dross we have to read through.”

“And unfortunately ‘not an idiot’ isn’t specific enough to be useful,” Anur grumbled, breaking off a piece of his roll and pulling the top file towards him. _:Bet I can finish more than you!:_

Kir narrowed his eyes, smirking as he snatched his first file, _:You’re on.:_

Anur definitely underestimated the length of the files, or at least found things that slowed down his reading, as Kir had gotten through half his stack while Anur was hovering at just over a third when Jaina followed Colbern in some marks later, the pair having finished with their drills. Her halberd was casually propped over her shoulder, his yearmate maneuvering through the doorways like she’d been walking with a polearm for years.

“Well doesn’t that look familiar,” she said, sitting across from them with food of her own, Colbern sitting next to her. “I hear you plan to return to your northern duties soon – I certainly hope you’re not leaving me with that mess to finish.”

“No, it should be finished by tonight,” Kir reassured her, setting his current file aside (acceptable, particularly if a good chaplain to pair him with could be found). He laced his fingers together on top of the table and continued, “I hope to leave within the week. I cannot simply abandon my unit.”

“And a permanent posting in Sunhame would drive you mad,” Jaina added dryly, “I do remember that much, at least. No, we could not keep you from your unit, and I wouldn’t want to. The others may not see it that way of course, but it can be dealt with so long as you are in regular communication with us.”

“Two weeks out of every eight I plan to be in the District,” Kir explained, a weight lifting off his shoulders at Jaina understanding, if not approving, of his need to return to the 62nd. “Between that and Kari as a line of communication in emergencies we should be able to manage easily enough; everyone has their own projects in addition to the overall tasks set for the Order to keep them busy.”

“For the ordained members, certainly, and Lumira and Laskaris have her Hardornens to deal with,” Jaina agreed, “I may travel out there myself at some point, to offer services as a healer. I never received formal training but I can work some minor magics that may prove helpful.”

“I can continue working with the others on weaponry,” Colbern added, a slightly manic gleam in his eyes at the idea and Kir didn’t envy the others. He recognized that gleam from Sergeant Greich before particularly devious training regimes were introduced.

The fact he had occasionally helped develop and implement them in recent years was irrelevant.

“The acolytes too, if you wouldn’t mind,” Kir suggested and the other priest waved his hand dismissively. Undoubtedly he had planned to include them anyway but it was worth stating aloud.

“Speaking of, what is going to be done with Rodri?” Jaina asked abruptly, Anur looking up from his own paperwork at last and raising an eyebrow, looking between the two of them as he asked, “Going to be done? Does something need to be done?”

“He’s been in the district only a couple of years, true, and he’s nowhere near ready to be advanced as an acolyte, that will have to wait another year at the earliest simply to get through the schooling necessary, but he’s far along enough to be considered for sponsorship,” she elaborated, looking between the two of them. “It was assumed that I would end up with him, simply because of his knack for flames and my own rank, but you’re a much better match, Eldest. Both because of your shared affinity and the already established trust.”

“I,” Kir started, then paused in his near automatic refusal to truly think about it. Being a chaplain was no place for an initiate to learn, not with war coming. That wasn’t even considering the whole under the table agreement with Valdemar that wasn’t heresy any longer, but was still technically treason.

But he had truly enjoyed teaching Rodri, the few times he’d managed to speak with him. Had come to appreciate the young teen’s own twist on their shared talent, had delighted in his enthusiasm, near admiration, for fire and flame that was so like his own, but untainted by grief and regret. Letting the chance to mentor him pass by would be painful.

“Wouldn’t want him in the 62nd,” Anur said bluntly, apparently catching some of the worries he was most certainly not broadcasting and deciding to bring them to light. “Not with a war coming and not with the unit hard-pressed as it is, come the high season.”

“Certainly not!” Jaina shuddered, “Chaplains never take acolytes fresh out of the initiates. Sixteen is the age of conscription and most chaplains are at least in their twenties before being assigned – being ordained before twenty is unusual, I assure you, though Kir undoubtedly gave a different impression.”

“No,” she continued, directing her comments back to Kir, “No I was thinking he would reside in Sunhame continuing his studies as an Initiate but you would provide guidance on his flames when you were in residence and when he was old enough, he could accompany you on some form of rounds. I simply don’t feel comfortable with guiding his flames anymore, he’s far outstripped my memory of your explanations and it’s your techniques he excels in.”

“You can’t deny you want it, Eldest,” Colbern snorted, “You’re already fond of him and he idolizes you. Best to just take the chance. Student would be good for you. The both of you. Besides, it’ll show your honest commitment to the future of the Order of some such rot.”

“It’s not _rot_ it’s a valid angle of interpretation!” Jaina hissed, Kir laughing as he got more of an idea how the Order had been run in his years of exile. It was a much healthier picture than he had feared.

“You both raise good points,” Kir said, picking up his next profile for review, smiling at Jaina and saying, “I’ll raise the matter with him later.”

“Good,” Jaina nodded, “Now, what are you looking for with these? We can help.”

“Oh thank the Sunlord,” Anur groaned, shoving half his stack across at Colbern who yelped, “I volunteered for no such thing!”

Continued bickering made working through the remainder of the stacks much more enjoyable and Kir found himself almost looking forward to being Incendiary. Well, perhaps not being Incendiary, he mused, rolling his eyes with Jaina as Anur and Colbern fought over some minor point of a story the old priest had been telling. But being a true part of his Order again, of really coming to know these people who’d sworn the same oaths as him, who’d taken the same vows.

He still hated Sunhame though.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Between meeting with the generals and getting a solid moon’s worth of laughs over Kir’s by far _most_ ridiculous title and powering through paperwork with Colbern and Jaina’s bantering assistance, the day had gone extremely well. Anur was more than pleased with it, especially considering how yesterday had gone – not poorly, not really, but much more stressfully.

He hadn’t realized how deeply Seras’ confessions had alarmed him until he’d woken up panicking from a nightmare of dying acolytes, murdered idiots, and realizing it had been _him_ who’d killed them for the crime of offending Kir, of being in his brother’s way. Immediate assault for offense against _self_ he would never understand, but immediate assault for offense against one he called dear, against one he called brother?

Oh yes, he saw the appeal.

But Kir and Aelius had managed to get through to him, managed to reassure him that while he may wish misfortune upon someone who’d so erred he wouldn’t murder needlessly. Just the occasional stab, a reaction he should probably work on.

Nichter didn’t count. That private acted against Kir with lethal intent and deserved everything he’d had coming to him before Kir’s guilt complex stayed his hand.

Of course, with this coming conversation he’d probably be adding a person to his protect at all costs list and didn’t doubt Kir was making the same adjustment, if he hadn’t already. When Jaina had suggested Kir take Rodri as a student Anur had honestly been surprised the matter had ever been in question. Hadn’t discovering his awakening, saving him from a mob and introducing him to Axeli already created an uncontestable claim?

But with the way the question had thrown Kir, his brother’s mind fair reeling with potential complications and an underlying current of wistful want, it hadn’t been such a given to everyone. At least he’d managed to get Jaina to address Kir’s concerns and elaborate a bit, because he couldn’t let Kir pass up this chance. Kir may have somehow missed it because he utterly failed at identifying any emotions coming his way that didn’t involve flinching away in terror, but Rodri looked to him as a hero.

He looked to Kir like Mara did.

Anur was all in favor of anything that got Kir used to the idea of people being truly happy to see him, of people being able to smile at him without any fear or resentment buried underneath.

Frosted hells, Kir looked calm but he was a bundle of nerves and they were just going to find Rodri and ask what he thought about the idea. It was painfully endearing to witness, this nervousness and near irrational anxiety over asking a boy if he’d like to be his student.

Anur didn’t care if Seras didn’t like it, he definitely owed Verius a punch.

They found Rodri sitting at one of the better-lit desks in the library, frowning over an essay he was working on. The initiates’ curriculum was going to have to be reworked entirely with the reforms, but until then Seras had taken it upon himself to come up with probably more rigorous assignments to keep him busy. Anur was sure Rodri appreciated the gesture deeply.

“Rodri,” Kir said, Anur hiding a smile at the relief on the initiate’s expression when he stopped working on his essay.

“Father Kir!” he pushed back from the desk to stand and offer a bow, “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Nothing that will keep you from your assignment for long,” Kir gave a soft laugh at Rodri’s briefly crestfallen expression, “But perhaps for a bit. Did you hear of Solaris’ announcement earlier today?”

“No, Father, I went to the main Sun Rising service and she was not presiding,” Rodri replied, clearly curious but willing to wait for an explanation.

“Ah, well at the noon service she announced that initiates and acolytes have the same familial contact and visitation rights as Sunsguard cadets, and as Anur and I are traveling northward soon I thought we could deliver a letter to your family, if you would like,” Kir’s voice trailed off towards the end of that, waiting for Rodri’s response.

The teen had a disbelieving expression on his face that was slowly replaced with a smile, “Yes, Father, I would like that a lot. I’ll get you that letter tomorrow.”

“No rush, we are not leaving for a few days,” Kir reassured him, hesitating before continuing more formally, “I also have something further to ask of you.”

“Of course Father,” Rodri blinked, apparently startled by the shift in tone. Anur had guessed Kir would leave this for afterwards, not wanting contact with his family to seem to be contingent upon his accepting Kir’s offer of mentorship.

 _:Easy Kir, just ask him,:_ he murmured.

“I’ve been informed, and agree, that our flames align well,” Kir said, using what Anur had been informed earlier was something of an archaic formula to ask an initiate if they would consent to be your student. It did imply that an initiate could say no, after all, which wasn’t something more recent regimes would accept, even if the Firestarters had never entirely done away with it.

Rodri clearly recognized it, inhaling sharply at the words and a tenuous hope growing in his eyes. These two were going to be the death of him, he could already tell.

 _:Hmm. Much like you and Kir are going to be the death of me, as I could tell the moment he showed up in Valdemar with that ridiculous makeshift flag,:_ Aelius murmured fondly.

 _:Hey, that was an impressive amount of white fabric to dig out of a Karsite cavalry unit’s non-existant surplus,:_ Anur defended, almost missing it when Kir continued.

“And would therefore ask that you consider allowing me the privilege of guiding yours,” he said, near visibly bracing himself for Rodri’s reaction.

All the bracing in the world did him no good at all, seeing as Rodri nearly knocked him over when he flung his arms around him, Anur managing to steady them before anyone hit a bookshelf. It was only for a few moments, Rodri hastily pulling back and wiping his eyes with his sleeve, beaming as he apologized, “Sorry, Father I was just – yes. I would be honored to receive your guidance.”

“No need to apologize,” Kir reassured him, the smile on his own face utterly incapable of capturing the joy Anur was picking up. “It’s going to be unusual, in that you’re still an initiate and I’m still a chaplain, but we’ll work it out. Seras apparently feels no restraint in assigning you essays.”

Rodri groaned, glaring at the texts and paper he had on his desk, “No,” he grumbled, “He feels no restraint at all.”

Kir laughed, “Not much has changed then. Well, if it can wait, perhaps you could leave it for the moment and we three can get some tea and figure out how this mentorship is going to work?”

“You are getting two mentors for the price of one, after all,” Anur finally spoke up, offering the startled looking initiate a grin, “Can’t help with flames, but I can certainly help with steel! And drinking songs!”

“No.”

“Oh come on Kir, what life is complete without a few drinking songs that go to hymnal tunes? You’re the one who taught _me_ a few of those!”

“I’m sure Father Colbern and Father Valerik would be happy to assist with that,” Rodri replied with impressive innocence, Kir simply shaking his head and muttering under his breath about the whole matter being a horrible mistake.

He was still smiling though.

It didn’t take long at all for them to get the details out of the way, but they managed to stretch it until the Sun Setting service, letting Rodri put off his essay until the next day. Etrius and Maltin dragged him away for something at that point, the other Firestarters likewise breaking into small groups to entertain themselves for a few marks before retiring. Kir and he retreated to the kitchen, as was almost a habit by now, claiming the nice chairs they’d dragged in and returning to old past-times.

Namely, knotwork and whittling.

It was probably only a few marks before midnight when their comfortable silence was interrupted, Kari padding in and saying to Anur, _:Solaris would speak with you two.:_

“Guess we should have brought a third chair in,” Anur murmured, relaying the message to Kir. Kari just shrugged, leaping up to land on Anur’s lap and butting his hand with his head. Anur rolled his eyes and started scratching at the Cat’s ears. Firecats seemed to like him a lot more than Cats of Fire, at least.

Kir’s eyes were crinkled with amusement when Solaris arrived in a wash of flame, Hansa in her own arms. “Brother,” she said with relief, waving off Kir’s attempt to offer her his seat and dragging a tall stool over from the counter, “I have been sitting in armchairs most of the day, allow me to stretch my legs at least. Two generals have entirely resigned, and both of them those I wanted immediately gone, so thank you for that.”

“It wasn’t any great burden,” Kir replied dryly.

Anur snorted, “If anything, we’re saving ourselves more work, the two I’d put money on were obnoxious.”

“Oh it’s the same two, I’m sure,” Solaris rolled her eyes, “There are only so many you could be referring to.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate people’s ability to be obnoxious,” Anur cautioned with a grin, “They'’ll always surprise you!”

Any response was interrupted by Jaina and Fabron entering the kitchen, deep in conversation about some tome they’d both read. Jaina noticed Solaris’ presence first and quickly bowed, Fabron echoing her with wide eyes. “Apologies for interrupting, Your Eminence,” Jaina said, “We were simply in search of tea, we can come later.”

“No, no it’s quite all right,” Solaris replied, “I needed to speak with you anyway, and offer an apology for the manner in which I made my first set of announcements.”

“A forewarning as to our Order’s errors would have been appreciated,” Jaina agreed mildly, Fabron looking between the two of them with clear wariness and no little regret over finding himself in the middle of this, “The announcement was a total surprise, and quite a traumatic one.”

“Kir has taken me to task over it, and quite appropriately,” Solaris replied, Anur raising an eyebrow and Kir murmuring to him, _:While you were following Maltin. We are a small Order, but no less vital, particularly given her plans for the future of the Order.:_

 _:Oh I agree, just sorry I missed it,:_ Anur said, listening with half an ear as Solaris and Jaina danced around apologies and regrets. They’d straighten it out soon, he was sure. Fabron was taking advantage and inching his way towards the cupboards for tea and water, apparently hoping if he moved cautiously enough he’d be overlooked.

 _:It wasn’t particularly thrilling,:_ Kir replied dryly, fingers continuing to expand his current knotwork Sun in Glory. He’d started that one on the road to Sunhame, and Anur was actually surprised it had taken him so long to finish. Kir had definitely completed entire projects on one long ride before, when the footing was good.

_:I simply pointed out that her announcement could very well have left me with half an Order, given the way some were leaning towards self-immolation, and then where would we be? Covering the border with any sort of comprehension would be out of the question, giving them time to actually recover and cope would be equally difficult, and much more devastating to go without. I would also have been hard pressed to maintain my duties as a chaplain, which would have ended… rather badly, for me.:_

_:For us,:_ Anur gave a mental scoff, _:Because I may be acting calm now, but trust me, it is a thin veneer indeed, wearing thinner everyday we’re here. If you were less stable, I would be completely lost.:_

Kir’s glance was concerned, his tone worried, _:I thought so.:_

“Well then, I found your assistant,” Solaris said, Jaina and she seemingly at ease with one another again, or at least as ‘at ease’ as they would ever be. Fabron certainly looked relieved, and then startled when the mugs of water he was holding were suddenly steaming. A quick glance at Kir gave away the source of that particular moment; he was hiding a smile.

“Before Midwinter a few requests for transfers into the chaplain branch came in and one of them seemed a good match – I reviewed the information and spoke to him myself. I rather think it’s confirmed,” Solaris said, casting Kir an amused look when Fabron very gingerly handed Jaina a mug of tea, seemingly worried it was going to burst into flames or some such. “You can of course have final say, but it may take longer to find someone else. He’s even in Sunhame at the moment so you can interview him and then leave immediately, if you like him.”

“Excellent,” Kir sat back in his chair with a relieved smile, “Thank you, Sister, for finding a candidate so quickly. Open-minded, I trust?”

“Oh definitely,” she hesitated, cutting a quick glance to the other Firestarters before continuing, “However, I wanted to give both of you something of a warning, before meeting him, as I believe you’ve encountered him before?”

“Not Loshern, is it?” Anur asked, Kir’s eyes narrowing and both of them were relieved when Solaris shook her head, chuckling as she said, “Oh no, I don’t think he’d ever request to be a chaplain. His bias was well known even before you told me of your encounter. No, this one is only recently ordained, worked for a year or so as a village priest with his mentor and is looking to strike out on his own. He was trained in Sunbeam Brook.”

 _:Peace,:_ Kari said, ringing command breaking through the roar of flames and echos of screams that had threatened to swamp him, Kir’s hands on his shoulders and quiet reassurances in his ears.

Letting out a shaky breath, Anur loosened his white-knuckled grip on Kari’s fur and reached up to rest a hand on Kir’s, “I’m all right,” he murmured, glancing towards Solaris before meeting Kir’s worried gaze, “I’m fine.”

“I had not thought – perhaps this won’t work,” Solaris said, sounding rather distressed, “No, I can find somebody else, my apologies I thought it might – might make explaining easier, give something of a starting point, particularly given his doubts over the whole matter.”

 _:So long as he doesn’t want to burn all White Demons it would be a… not awful idea,:_ Kir acknowledged mentally, speaking to Anur alone as he slowly returned to his seat, _:But we do not need it, Anur. Not at this cost.:_

“What happened in Sunbeam Brook?” Jaina asked, seemingly torn between concern and curiosity, “I can’t recall any truly great news from there, was there an investigation?”

“I think there was a failed burning a few years ago? Not one of ours, though, we’d know more otherwise,” Fabron quickly hid behind his mug when they looked at him.

Kir opened his mouth to explain but Anur raised a hand, saying, “I’ve got this, Kir.”

He’d been thinking about this, after all, after telling Seras he did not care for flames. Someone was going to ask, eventually. Someone was going to wonder after the circumstances, and if somehow a connection was made between him being traumatized by fire and Sunbeam Brook capturing a White Demon, the conclusion would be fairly obvious.

But this entire enterprise was an exercise in audacity. If there was one thing they could claim to be true experts in by now, it was audacity.

“I’ve been working with Kir unofficially for a while,” Anur informed her and Fabron, not daring to look straight at Kir while he spun this incomplete truth. “Before I was officially sworn in as Enforcer, I was investigating things in Sunbeam Brook and ran into a boy with a gift for prophecy – later confirmed, he prophesied you, Solaris, for one thing. In the course of it, I was accused of being a Demon Rider.”

He could tell he’d stunned everyone – Jaina and Fabron, hopefuly by the sheer absurdity of the accusation, the others in the room and in his mind by the utter recklessness he’d apparently exhibited.

_:Chosen – what are you doing.:_

_:I’ve got this Aelius – Kir, Kir I’ve_ got this _, all right? It’s going to be okay you need to breathe or Jaina is going to know something is up!:_ he shot back, hoping to cut off Kir’s panic before it really started and hoping that he wasn’t lying as he reassured them. Fabron choking on his tea was hopefully a good sign.

Meeting Jaina’s stunned gaze, he gave her a rueful smile and shrugged, “Four days later, they managed to wrangle a confession from me – not that I was in my right mind by then.”

“But your horse isn’t even white,” Fabron said faintly, having managed to avoid spitting tea everywhere. Jaina shook her head sharply and followed up with seeming calm, “They tried to burn you then? After a – after that? How did you – Eldest?”

“I got him out,” Kir said flatly, knuckles white on his chair, “I managed to disguise myself as a Demon Rider and get him out, hoping that the disguise would throw off any pursuit. It was – one of the reasons we decided to get official backing for him. I couldn’t – we couldn’t risk that happening again.”

“I would say not!” Jaina snarled, calm evaporating, “What were they, _stupid_?”

“Your horse isn’t even _white_ ,” Fabron repeated, apparently still stuck on that incongruity. “How would you even jump to that conclusion? And Sunlord, no wonder you reacted so badly to Maltin’s illusion crafting, he was pulling on old memories, not crafting wholly new experiences!”

Jaina was white-faced, rounding on Solaris and hissing, “You want to assign one of the imbeciles _responsible_ for this as Kir’s understudy?”

Solaris held up her hands peaceably, saying to them all, “I assure you, young Henrick was badly shaken by the whole affair and during the interview spoke with very clear regret about the boy that was to be burned with you. He also doubted you were a Demon Rider, even with the seemingly Heraldic rescue, and even then – I rather doubt he would have cared, so long as the child was still safe. He was deeply disturbed by Cristan’s actions, and that crafted much of his later choices. I would not have suggested this if I did not think it would work.”

“Oh – Cristan. That makes sense,” Fabron relaxed, “He was insane. Patrolled Lumira’s district all the time and always ended up leaving injured and traumatized people behind for little evidence gained. Him finally dying was not met with much grief on our end.”

 _:Well that’s convenient,:_ Aelius murmured, tone still shell-shocked, _:Insane to more than just us.:_

 _:The reasoning gap that led to him hurting Anur could have been evident in other ways,:_ Kir pointed out, also a bit shaky, _:I wouldn’t be surprised if he were known as one of the mad ones that was just useful enough to keep around. He was a more than fair justicar it was just when he tried his hand at witch-hunting things seemed to break down.:_

“Sunlord bless, I just realized most of those who fled after being wrongly accused of witchcraft probably headed north,” Jaina groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, “What are we going to do about _that_ if they decide to try coming home?”

“Accept them and thank the Sunlord for their safe return,” Solaris replied promptly, “There is nothing else that would be appropriate.”

“Though perhaps we can avoid mentioning that decision until it comes up?” Kir suggested, Anur grinning at the wry amusement in his tone; it was all the more entertaining with so few in on the real extent of the joke. “Not all the Firestarters are ready to take that step just yet – we’re still working on the witch-powers no longer being evil. Much less the priesthood as a whole. Anything on a new name for those, by the by?”

“So far the only one we’ve got is Talent,” Solaris replied, “With various subcategories for the different types for clarity.”

 _:So basically they’re copying Valdemar but using a different word than a direct translation of Gift to avoid being blatantly obvious about it,:_ Aelius snorted, Anur letting a smile show when he said, “Better than not-really-witch power, at least.”

“Well if _that’s_ going to be your metric,” Jaina laughed.

“If anything I thought you’d go for the more ridiculous name,” Fabron said slyly, “Colbern said someone used Illuminatorious?”

“No,” Solaris looked at Kir, grinning, “The Generals actually _used_ that title?”

“Repeatedly!” Anur crowed, “My new favorite!”

“The next person to call me that is going to have their hair set on fire, I swear,” Kir grumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, they'll get out of Sunhame, I swear. Ugh...
> 
> But Rodri was a surprise - and so was Fabron finally speaking up! So that was nice.


	16. The Northern Cousins

_Dirk, Herald of Valdemar_

Dirk frowned, drumming his fingers on his desk. His primary duties were still circuit-Herald, but with the war claiming more and more of their resources and his wife so very tied up in Haven, he had been finding himself taking on more jobs in Haven itself to free up others to head east. But even with the extra duties, every time the Bell tolled he felt another pang of guilt that he just couldn’t lay aside. The Queen, of all people, had taken to sympathizing with him as apparently she’d been in much the same situation during the Tedrel Wars.

Two devastating, full-out wars within a generation of each other. That hadn’t happened since before Herald Vanyel’s time, if Myste were to be believed and one didn’t count the usual skirmishes with Karse.

The bell hadn’t rung in moons though, a respite he was desperately grateful for, especially as every time it rang he couldn’t help but hold his breath and recite the names he thought it would break him to hear. _Griffon. Skif. Neavan. Anur. Crista._

His wife’s good friends, three of them. His student, one of those three. And the other two were the only other members of his and Kris’ year still alive. Every single one was stationed on a near permament basis in the southeast, though at least Crista and Skif were frequently rotated out to either Haven or messenger duty and Griffon was pulled back every winter to plot and regroup. Neavan came back every once and a while, but stayed in the keeps more often than not, helping with harvests and refugee settling.

Anur was the only one who never seemed to take a break, aside from one Midwinter visit to his family years ago.

 _What happened to you, brother?_ he wonderd, careful to keep his thoughts partitioned from Ahrodie. She was flirting with one of the other Companions anyway, she’d given him the heads up to shield more today, but still. He’d made it something of a habit whenever he was thinking of Anur. Ahrodie always seemed eager to brush it aside, urge him forward.

But he didn’t _want_ to be urged forward, to forget and ignore what was going on because curse it all, Griffon was _right_. Something was wrong between them and he couldn’t for the life of him remember what, remember where or how things had gone sour. Or if things even had gone sour and if this wasn’t just them growing apart, but if Griffon, who knew Anur, who had worked with him and seen him more in these past four years than Dirk had since they finished their Internships, thought something was wrong, he was probably right.

Assuming otherwise wasn’t worth the risk.

What if _he_ was the reason Anur hadn’t been heard from in anything besides reports – terse, to the point, rather pathetic reports at that – in years? He’d used his clearance to hunt up all of Anur’s official reports and more casual informative missives and he couldn’t shake the feeling of something being _off_. Of there being something _wrong_.

But there was little he could do, here. Not when he didn’t have the first idea of what was actually going on, not when his Companion didn’t see the point in pursuing the issue with the herd. Having no knowledge of the circumstances made it impossible to write and demand answers, he couldn’t justify it. What right did he have to be so nosy, to push his way into Anur’s life when he very clearly didn’t want him there, or at the least didn’t care enough to bring him in?

So he would stay here, and fret, and hope that one day, he’d be able to sit down with his absent brother Herald and find out just where things had gone wrong.

_Joss, Healer of Valdemar_

“You’ll be fine Sara,” Joss assured the young woman who was going to replace him in his off the beaten path cottage. She’d only just returned from her own work for the Lord Marshal and he’d taken the chance to snap up his former student; since she’d been in Hardorn for the past five years she was fully within her rights to retire from field work and remain as discrete support when needed.

“I know, Joss,” Sara smiled at him, the expression weary as every single one of her moods seemed to be lately. The only reason he was even considering leaving her here alone was because he’d extracted very binding promises from all the surrounding villages to have someone come in and check on her every other day – more frequently as needed of course.

But she’d always loved herb healing, and growing things. Perhaps a few years of peace in the midst of rural Valdemar, garden and forest and all, was just what the Healer ordered.

It had certainly helped him.

“It’s quiet here,” she closed her eyes and turned towards the sun, some of the weariness falling away and Joss felt his worry ease. When Ancar had taken over, she’d only been in Hardorn a couple of weeks, supposedly an easy mission to get her feet wet, not intended to last longer than a few moons.

But duty had held her there, where a Healer would be in constant agony over all the death and _wrongness_ that had become the every day, and he couldn’t regret that. It was what he had taught her to be, after all.

“It is,” he agreed.

“Too quiet for you,” Sara opened one eye to look at him, smirking slightly, “Found something fun to stick your beak into, old teacher mine?”

“Hmm… perhaps,” he replied lightly, “Too soon to tell. But visiting Naomi is always good for a bit of excitement, and I’m curious about how these harsh winters are affecting the south. They could use the extra help west of the lines I’m sure.”

“Healers are always welcome,” she said darkly and Joss draped an arm over her shoulders, a gesture that would have gotten him bruised ribs when she’d first arrived weeks ago.

“I’ll be here a few days longer,” Joss said quietly, “Want to finish my stocking efforts.”

“And then you’ll be off on your adventure,” Sara chuckled wearily, “I wish you the best. I’ve had my fill of them.”

The woman, young enough to be his daughter, Trifold Lady what he had done to her when he’d chosen her as his protégé could never be forgiven, turned away from the sun and went inside. But he’d delayed too long as it was; the faint traces of Foresight he’d been afflicted with his whole life were telling him if he wanted in on Naomi’s schemes, he needed to be in the south as soon as possible.

And he so very desperately wanted in on Naomi’s schemes. Not only were they always entertaining, and always in need of a Healer, but this one involved _Karse_ and wasn’t even her idea in the first place. Had he not been dragged in himself, he’d never have believed he’d see the day where blue and crimson worked alongside peaceably and not for a fight alone. Those strange days he’d seen them burying the dead indiscriminately, tending to the injured with no regard for uniform, sharing quarters with nary a qualm he could spot.

This was the chance to see something marvelous, something historical, something new – and he’d be damned if he let that chance slip through his fingers.

_Captain Naomi, Valdemaran Guard_

Winter was coming to an early end this year, which was damn good to see for once. The season had come early and hard and stayed longer for years now, having a season where the moon after Midwinter _wasn’t_ spent in cursed blizzard after blizzard was a nice change. There were probably people out there who didn’t even remember that this weather was _weird_ at this point, it’d been so many years.

She wasn’t looking forward to the escalation Dinesh said was coming, and he would know.

Drumming her fingers on her desk, Naomi looked over the letters she’d just finished going over; only one or two of them a true social call. All the rest were inquiries – cautiously worded most of the time, none of her old contacts and friends would dare be too blunt – but inquiries nonetheless into the down right bizarre rumors and stories that had been coming out of Karse this whole time. Certainly, she’d had an inside look at the workings of one Sunsguard unit, but she could hardly speak for the nation.

She’d been very careful to avoid any situation where she might have knowledge of the nation. If she had that sort of knowledge, she’d have been obliged to pass it on – as it was, she was treading on the very edge of her willingness to disseminate.

She’d also never been directly asked until now.

Lying on the very top of the stack was a letter bearing the seal of the Lord Marshal – it contained orders, nothing unusual, just an update on where her unit would be moving in the spring, when they could expect replacements and the like. But woven into it, as she and some few others would be able to tell, was an order to get some useful knowledge out of Herald Anur regarding the Karsite matter, as his reports had been scarce and empty of any truly useful strategic information.

She wasn’t surprised. She wouldn’t be surprised at all if the man’s first thoughts were in Karsite by now. The Heralds had done something stupid with that one, leaving him adrift, and while he’d be the first Herald she’d known to go native, he’d be far from the first person. At least with him being a Herald she knew that there wouldn’t be any harm to Valdemar coming from that conversion.

Swearing under her breath, Naomi gathered up her letters and headed for her quarters. There were a few weeks leave in her name, and she’d be taking a couple of them.

Time for her to get some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun...
> 
> Short, but very fun to write! Hopefully updating monthly? I know it's doable - it's just a matter of managing it :)


	17. Returns and 'Replacements'

It was a good thing Solaris had been present for the interview, Kir thought wryly, catching the only just ordained Henrick staring at them again. After Anur’s reaction to even Sunbeam Brook’s _name_ , he certainly wasn’t going to have his brother meet one of those that had hurt him without significant back up. As it was, Anur had managed to hold together visibly, it was only in his mind that the spike of flame-scented panic was noticeable and between he and Aelius they’d managed to get even that to subside rather quickly.

Henri, as he preferred to be called, had no such buffer and on recognizing Anur had first given a double-take, then been disbelieving, and then apparently come to a conclusion close to the story Anur had implied to Fabron and Jaina. Tearing that bit of self-deception away had actually been rather entertaining; Kir had ended up pressing a flask on the man, as he had plenty more shocks to come, not the least of which the fact that the entire Sunsguard unit he was being assigned was in on it.

Even with the full week it took them to get back north – he was never taking Riva’s speed for granted again, this pace was agonizing – Henri managed to stumble onto one newly shocking fact a day. Kir had honestly forgotten how much of the 62nd’s normal was utterly foreign to Karse, and in particular civilian Karse. Henri had double the adjustment to make, going from pastoral village priest to still-technically-treasonous chaplain.

 _:I’m rather impressed with him,:_ Anur commented, his thoughts evidently running along a similar line, _:He truly was relieved Asher had escaped and could care less who exactly it was done by. Probably would have ended up running himself if things hadn’t changed.:_

 _:Or at the very least smuggling the children of his village out,:_ Kir agreed, _:No, Henri is going to be fine. He’s just going to feel very overwhelmed for a while.:_

 _:We should shove him in with new arrivals, he’ll help them cope much better now that he’ll have gone through the adjustment process too,:_ Aelius suggested, _:Give them someone to talk to that they know experienced a similar adjustment, rather than instigating the whole thing.:_

Kir winced slightly, knowing Aelius had more than a small point. He felt confident that those who had accepted the 62nd’s oddities or even prompted some of them would come to him easily, but for those who arrived and were abruptly thrown into the 62nd’s madness he was probably not the most approachable figure. His involvement in the whole matter had started being spelled out from the very beginning, after Nichter.

 _:Don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty about that,:_ Anur said sardonically, _:Really Kir, you can’t have everything.:_

 _:Oh I know,:_ Kir was careful to keep his sigh purely mental, but then let out a physical one as the walls of the 62nd came in sight. _:Thank the Sunlord. This took forever.:_

_:Riva and Aelius spoil us.:_

_:So we deserve spoiling in return, yes?:_

_:Fine, fine, greedy witch-horse.:_

_:I’ll toss you in the muck one of these days Chosen, see if I don’t.:_

Kir hid a grin behind his canteen and looked over at Henri, the younger man staring back at him and clearly nervous but trying to hide it. “Calm down,” Kir reassured him, “You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say,” the priest grumbled under his breath as they rode on, Kir doubting he was supposed to be able to hear it as he continued mumbling, “Oh yes and we forgot to mention there’s a whole patrol of Demon Riders in town this week, its part of our yearly snow festival. Do try to avoid letting on you nearly set one of their brethren on fire, would you?”

 _:A snow festival sounds like a_ fantastic _idea!:_

_:Oh don’t even start.:_

“Father Kir! Lieutenant-Enforcer, good to see you’ve returned! Gates!”

The bellowed command from the lookout was hardly needed, their names enough to get the gates moving. By the time they made it to the stables, Greich was there to meet them along with the official second in command, Senior Lieutenant Nakel.

“Father Kir,” the Sergeant greeted, “Good to see you’ve returned safely. Impeccable timing too, we just finished modifying the chapel to provide quarters for your second yesterday.”

_:Building modifications in this muck? We owe them a hefty amount of liquor.:_

_:And spice-cake.:_

_:Because they’ll just give you all the leftovers - :_

_:As if they won’t pass on any prodka to you, please!:_

“Speaking of, this is Father Henri,” Kir introduced, the younger man inclining his head, “Sergeant Greich and Senior Lieutenant Nakel. He’s already been briefed on the majority of it.”

“The men will be devastated,” Nakel said dryly, “They were so looking forward to shocking him.”

“Oh I don’t doubt they’ll still manage,” Henri grumbled, Anur laughing and clapping him on the shoulder cheerfully as he said, “Not to worry! I can describe his facial expression rather well, and that’s what they didn’t want to miss!”

“Fantastic,” the man sighed, making good on an escape and following a hostler to his horse’s new stall. Kir managed to hold back a grin, Greich shaking his head and signaling a hostler, the man darting off on his errand.

“Just as well you got the basics out of the way,” the sergeant said, “Captain Mecal came in two days ago with some very pointed questions. We were able to dodge things with your absence, but that didn’t make her any less curious.”

“Thought I recognized her mare,” Anur grimaced, balancing Aelius’ tack on the stall door for the moment. “It may be time to read her in, Kir.”

“Depends entirely on how much she’ll feel obligated to send north as official,” Kir replied, already half-done with brushing Riva, the gelding leaning into the strokes happily, “It’s not as critical to keep things under wraps, but I’d prefer everything not be spread about.”

“She’s on leave at the moment,” Nakel offered, “So officially, no one knows where she is, though I’m sure Leiutenant Corinth knows. Sergeant Greich can take you to her and the Captain, I’ll stay well out of it and show Father Henri around, get a summary later.”

Nakel had taken a hands-off policy with regards to the Valdemar problem years ago, and had stuck with it, finding a kindred spirit in the seldom-seen Lieutenant Corinth serving under Captain Naomi. They both had an equal desire to just stick with killing bandits, and forgetting all this national conspiracy mess, though adding to their pool of letter-commiseration buddies was always nice. There were a number of those sorts of correspondences going on, and Kir wouldn’t doubt men were scrambling to finish their question-dodging replies so Captain Mecal could take them with her when she left. He just hoped that when she left she agreed to keep details behind her teeth.

Things being spread about would mean his brother would have to go to Valdemar and deal with it, would have to worry about what his countrymen thought about him more immediately, and Kir wouldn’t be able to go with him. Not at present, not with permission. Jaina would murder him in his sleep if he abandoned her to head the Order at this juncture and she would be fully justified – if he were in her position, he’d have the same reaction.

But he needn’t have worried; Mecal was waiting in the Captain’s office, boots off and a drink in her hand, very clearly on leave. She took one look at the two of them walking in the door, Greich on their heels, and snorted, holding her glass out to Ulrich and saying, “Top me off, will you? I’m going to need every drop for this.”

“It’s like you know them,” the man replied dryly, obediently pouring her more _prodka_.

There were two more glasses by the time they were done, all four of them sitting around the small fireplace the Captain was afforded with glasses in their hands, Mecal, ironically, the most relaxed of them even as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Long term is right,” she finally snorted, eyeing Anur, “Stars and moons, Herald you have a talent for understatement. Holy revolution in Karse and a _woman_ in charge – this is huge! And you lot want me to keep it between my teeth!”

Kir tensed and readied another explanation of why but was cut off by a wave of her hand, “Don’t bother, Dinesh, I know very well why and I even agree. I just don’t look forward to being the one to tell the Marshal I knew about this months before him, at the _least_.”

“You won’t,” Anur said quietly, “I’m going to be the one reporting that, when the time comes. I instigated the whole thing, it’s only fair.”

And Anur was terrified of it, Kir knew, cutting a concerned glance his brother’s way and not knowing what he could say to help. He would be there, of course he would, but it didn’t mean the authorities of Valdemar would feel any more kindly about it, would be any less inclined to paint Anur as derelict, as untrustworthy, as treacherous. He hated the fact that Anur was in this position, even as he was so unspeakably grateful that Anur was _here_ because Sunlord knew if he was facing this alone he’d either be halfway through Jkatha and still running or salt-sown ash.

Mecal rubbed her face tiredly, voice equally weary as she said, “That’s going to be one ugly session. Technically speaking – _morally_ speaking, you’ve done nothing wrong. No orders for you have come in since you were assigned to us in the first place, hells, if they really needed you they’d be calling you in. No one’s asked after you, haven’t gotten anything aside from a stipend and generic ‘well-done’ to show they even know you’re alive. So what you’re doing is entirely unsanctioned, who cares? That’s the whole point of Heralds, that they can be trusted to do things for the good of Valdemar without being overseen every step of the way.”

“Technically and morally right doesn’t mean they’ll see it that way,” Anur said sourly and Kir wasn’t the only one who grimaced at that tone.

“Of course they won’t,” Naomi snorted, “Think they should know everything, the moment it happens. Entitled to it, they think. Their right, not their privilege.”

She stared at the fire for a few seconds before sighing again, meeting Kir’s eyes and saying quietly, “So, what can they know?”

“Anur has a report on the _vrondi_ he wrote up a while ago, the official excuse for him being in Karse,” Kir started, a weight lifting from his shoulders and he could tell Ulrich and Greich felt the same way, the Captain in particular looking much happier now that Mecal had been read in without anything tragic happening to their partnership.

“After that,” he let his lips twitch, “The stories and rumors have been getting rather out of hand here, it would be a shame for them to stop in Karse. My favorite one has Solaris wearing a false beard while she proclaims herself the true Son of the Sun.”

“They _didn’t_!”

It was a couple of marks before sunset when they finished, Kir would have to go conduct the evening rites soon. By then they’d all shared a few of the stories they’d been hearing and spreading during these years and while more than a few bordered on the absurd, there were grains of truth in every single one. Mecal had cackled her way through most of them, apparently delighting in the chance to send some of these absurd things back north, but it was only when Anur excused himself to fetch the letters and reports he’d written that Kir had any real understanding of _why_ she was doing this.

The moment the door shut behind Anur, Kir at ease with Anur out of his sight like he never could or would be outside the 62nds walls, Mecal’s humor faded and she said to Kir, “The Heralds messed up with him.”

“They did,” Kir confirmed cautiously, wondering how bad it had been, for her to treat Anur’s distance from his brethren so factually.

“He’s ours,” she said flatly, “Expect you two understand it,” nodding at Greich and Ulrich. “But when someone like that comes along, you don’t let them go because damn it, the unit needs them and they need the unit, and when that sort of connection gets dragged in – it wasn’t a challenge to get our crew to agree to cover for him. We love Heralds.”

Her tone turned fierce as she said, “We _love_ Heralds. And maybe we’re idiots for it, maybe it makes us fools, but that Herald is _ours_ and we’ll spit in the face of anyone who hurts him. So trust me when I say nothing of this will make its way north through me and mine, and when inevitably, I come calling saying we need him to stay in Valdemar for a while, that we’ll take care of him just as well as we did before he ever ditched us for Karse.”

Ulrich gave a quiet laugh and said, “Oh we understand _perfectly_.”

Kir smiled faintly, feeling a surge of warmth at that acknowledgement of his place, of his brother’s place, being truly _valued_ , and simply inclined his head. He and the Valdemaran captain understood each other in some things, at least, and protecting Anur as best they were able was an excellent common ground to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one!
> 
> Happy Easter-Spring-Chocolate-Day! Spring break was waylaid by Denver's mess, but gave me time to think and type at least? Hope Naomi's read-in wasn't disappointing, same with Henrick - I tried to do more detail but it was just ugly and I hated it, WAY too heavy-handed and verging on OOC for her so... yeah. Hope it works for you!
> 
> Oh, and the beard thing? TOTALLY a rumor Daren cites in By the Sword, makes me giggle every time.


	18. Spring Cleaning

Considering the fact only trusted officers were supposed to have maps of their regions and if they were lucky the Captain might have a basic map of Karse, the fact they were able to patch together a detailed map of their whole country spoke to soldiers’ tendency to hoard good maps. When the quartermaster had put the word out that he was looking for a count of goods men would be willing to part with for the sake of bartering, should their supplies ever be delayed again, he had gotten back quite the list of maps.

Supplies had never grown so low as to require bartering away personal goods, which simply meant the unit itself had maps enough to cover the country and then some. Kir and Anur had taken shameless advantage of it during their forays into Karse for Solaris, as maps modified and kept up to date by Sunsguard who actually had _been_ there made planning much simpler.

They were taking shameless advantage of it again, having spread the patchwork map over a mess table while Ulrich, Greich and Janner helped them sort through various tokens to mark what Sunsguard forces would be remaining. Before Solaris could get any idea of how many mercenaries she needed to dig up funds for, she needed to have an accurate report of what they truly needed – and what would simply make life easier.

“Not as bad as we feared,” Ulrich finally said, looking over the maps, weighed down with assorted game pieces to represent forces remaining after culling those units Anur and Kir had deemed unsalvageable. Pebbles marked places where forces were needed and nuts represented where forces would be very nice to have, but weren’t utterly necessary.

“But not as good as we hoped,” Greich sighed, toying with a game piece. “Even stretching things to the maximum patrolling range – and keep in mind that only half our remaining groups are primarily cavalry – we’re left with some large swaths of border territory I’m leery of leaving unprotected. Not even mentioning the bandit nests in the hill territories over by Menmellith and the pirates on Ruby and surrounding rivers.

“Not to mention,” he grimaced, exchanging a look with Janner before sighing and continuing, “Father Kir, who exactly suggested the guild mercenaries plan?”

“The Firecat Hansa,” Kir replied promptly, eyeing the older soldiers’ grimaces warily, “Is there a problem?”

“It seems a rather solid plan, if expensive,” Ulrich commented, raising an eyebrow at Janner’s wince.

“More expensive than you know,” the Senior Lieutenant sighed, “Understand, I was never properly stationed along the Rethwellan-Menmellith stretch, it’s all hearsay, but… to put it bluntly, mercenaries were considered less than human, and foreigners were already godless heathens. It’s going to be one heck of an upfront payment to lure anyone back here, and even then they’re going to be keeping one hand on a blade – and I can’t blame them.”

“I did work that stretch of the border for a time,” Greich said flatly, “Had the good fortune to avoid working with the worst of them and get north before that Menmellith bandit-trickery that was some ten years before the Prophet, but it wasn’t rumors and if I were a guild merc who remembered that nastiness, I wouldn’t touch a contract with us with a twenty foot spear. For anyone else, it would work just fine – for Karse? It’s going to be difficult.”

“Ten years before the – ah,” Anur pinched the bridge of his nose, saying, “Eldan. You’re talking about the campaign that got Eldan caught. That was the last _major_ mercenary action against Karse. The Skybolts worked with Rethwellen to get the Prophet dealt with, but they were the only mercs on that job from what I’ve heard.”

“That’s accurate,” Kir winced, “Not that the Prophet got as much support as she might have, she was a problem. It’s why we didn’t hear much about her even with active campaigning only a few years ago. She was cut off from avenues of power within Karse rather quickly.”

“Even I heard rumors of that one,” Ulrich snorted, “That’s when you know they’ve been blacklisted, if Captains and chaplains start hearing about it. Right then – at least we have timing going for us. Ten years is a long time for a merc to stay active and stay _bitter_ , most importantly. The coffers are going to take a serious hit luring them in, but it should be _possible_.”

“Also, we’re going to be asking them to supplement our own guard against border bandits and Hardorn, not actual internal policing. That will be left mostly to those Sunsguard who remain – and Hardorn has been blacklisted by the guild, Ancar chased the reps out and killed them when he could,” Anur pointed out, Greich choking on his tea and Ulrich sputtering at that bit of information.

“We already knew Ancar was evil, but that’s just stupid,” Janner muttered, “Fantastic – an over-powered evil _moron_ , the worst enemy imaginable.”

“Might be an idea to see if any mercenary aimed atrocities were documented,” Greich pointed out, recovering from his surprise, “Along with a request for troops and a willingness to pay a fair bit up front Her Holiness could write out specific apologies and include what details are known – explicitly acknowledging Karse was in the wrong could go a ways to building trust or at least willingness to hear us out.”

“Depending on the degree, compensation of some sort could be offered in addition to the fines the Guild undoubtedly levied; hells, even details on the fates of the ones who’d done it might be good – so long as they’re dead or suffering or some such, at least,” Kir mused.

“Seras would be good for that,” Anur reminded him, “Might have dealt with some of those sorts himself, he didn’t stop rigorously policing the priesthood until five or six years ago, well after the merc-targeted crimes would have happened.”

“Phyrris and Brynhild are two I know would have been involved,” Kir said, “And they’re both long dead, good riddance. Good suggestions, I’ll have those sent to Her Holiness. Hopefully it will catch her before she sends out a messenger.”

“It would take until true spring for us to even have a chance of knowing which of the Sunsguard officers we decided weren’t irredeemable are in fact salvageable, she’ll at least want those numbers and what sort of coverage will be left before she writes anything up,” Anur pointed out. “This work-up we’ve just done assumes every officer we didn’t just write off can in fact adjust – if that turns out not to be the case, we’ll have to redo things or at the least start promoting.”

“Coronad,” Ulrich said grimly, pointing at the cluster of markers that indicated the only other unit in the north. “You haven’t marked him as irredeemable, and I don’t think he truly is, not yet – but when the alliance with Valdemar comes out? Plan on problems. Hopefully we can chivy him into retirement. At the very least you need to arrange for him to be transferred! He’s _obsessed_. You haven’t been to many of the meetings since the Rethwellen army cut across, Father, but it’s brought up _frequently_. He cannot bear the idea of any aid going north.”

“Probably just as well I’ve dodged the few meetings you did attend then,” Anur said thoughtfully, Kir snorting, “Wasn’t an accident, Anur. I didn’t want to risk it – I knew it was bad, but hadn’t realized it was so severe. We’ll have to keep an eye out then.”

“Actually, we might need to go over to the 103rd’s barracks and check in on things,” Janner said slowly, looking over their maps with a furrowed brow, “There’s a meeting scheduled in a couple of days and with all that has happened – going early would not be unusual.”

“You think there will be a problem?” Anur asked, also examining the map and wondering what Janner was seeing.

“I’m only considering,” the man said slowly, looking up at them, “what I would think, if I were convinced of Valdemar’s evil, if I were convinced they were the worst of Vkandis’ foes, and then heard that Vkandis himself had chosen a new Son of Sun to guide Karse back to his side.”

“He wouldn’t actually try to act against Valdemar though,” Anur said dubiously, looking between the rest of them, “He couldn’t possibly consider that a good plan – without any sort of permission?”

“I wouldn’t be willing to bet on that,” Kir said, Greich nodding in agreement while Kir continued, “I’d bet the other way, if anything. He was quite determined to go after the Rethwellans when they marched.”

“They were marching through Karse though, it wasn’t attacking a sovereign nation with no provocation – their commanders had to have known there was a risk of Karse taking offense, we wouldn’t be considered the agressors in that case,” Ulrich said, “Coronad wouldn’t be that reckless. He’s a _captain_.”

“Either way, we’d best check,” Janner said, standing with a furrowed brow, “I’ll pack my kit.”

“Can’t hurt,” Greich sighed, “I’ll check the rosters.”

“I’ll inform Nakel we’re leaving early,” Ulrich said, on his way out the door.

Anur caught Kir’s eye, raising an eyebrow and Kir sighed, rising to his feet, “You’d best come along.”

“This is going to go so well, I can already tell,” Anur muttered, following.

***===***pagebreak***===***

“Still not here then?” Anur asked five days later, dismounting after entering the 103rds barracks for the second time in the past days. They’d arrived early with the other officers and joined the patrol rosters for the 103rd and 62nds region – the soldiers of the 54th who were stationed here had been uneasy seeing them and Kir hadn’t felt like dealing with it for nothing.

It had essentially led to them wandering the dead-zone on patrol and even swinging back by the 62nd for a couple days. Both of them had missed being in the north and missed being with men they could trust, so the excuse to venture back had been eagerly seized. It had also given them a chance to see how Henri was settling in – he’d gone through an entire cask of _prodka_ but otherwise seemed to be coping fine. The men were welcoming enough, but that could very well just be due his facial expressions when he found new things to be surprised by.

At least the _prodka_ distilleries would be in for a business boom these coming years.

“No sign of them,” Balin reported lowly, gaze very carefully not cutting to the members of the 54th that were milling nearby, “And by nervousness, the others know something, have an idea at least – but no one’s talking. Don’t bother unsaddling, Captain’s decided to ride out to them if they’re not going to come to us, Senior Lieutenant’s staying behind to manage things here. Knew you were coming in today so we figured we’d wait.”

“Well then, we might as well stay here,” Anur said with slightly forced cheer. He had never truly met Coronad, Kir had been careful to keep him away from meetings with the man, but from what he’d heard – no, he wasn’t very hopeful.

The best they could hope for at this point was him being capable of reason, of being willing to be talked down.

 _:If he does need to be smacked down, will your authority be enough?:_ Anur asked Kir while they waited for the men stationed here to saddle up and be ready to go.

 _:Not anymore, not after the Firestarting Order was announced to be in the wrong for so long – could you ask Kari to relay to Solaris a request for an order saying she is_ not _looking to engage Valdemar in war at this time? Or even generally that the country is not looking to engage in war at all, not for the forseeable future.:_

_:But Ancar?:_

_:He’ll be provoking us, has to be. We can’t initiate war ourselves, if it’s avoidable we must avoid it for as long as possible. Karse can’t afford a war, both resource wise and politics. Solaris needs more time to settle her regime. We won’t get enough time as it is – it is scorching or pouring in Karse, after all.:_

Anur sent back wordless acknowledgement before reaching for a different corner of his mind, feeling Aelius give him a boost for range as he called, _:Kari? Got a moment?:_

 _:Of course,:_ the Firecat’s voice echoed back at him, male and _young_. Aelius had always sounded older to him, a hint of hoarseness or a rough catch in the throat – none of it made sense, not physically, but that was how Anur interpreted it. Hansa was similar, his voice was clearer, strident and strong and _mature_. Kari sounded young – not a child, not even a teen, but Anur’s own age at the most. Mental voices were such strange things to interpret.

He let those thoughts run along their tangents as he relayed the request to Kari. He didn’t reach any conclusions, only more questions and musings, but that was all right. Those would keep him thinking and busy for even longer, after all.

_:She has some time shortly, a statement sealed and formalized should be ready within two marks.:_

_:Perfect – thank you Kari, and pass on our thanks to Hansa and Solaris of course.:_

_:Naturally. Do call on me if for the delivery. I think drama might make this more easy to swallow – or at least easier to ram down his throat.:_

_:More than fair, from what I’ve heard of the man,:_ Anur laughed, relaying all of it to Kir as the whole group mounted up to ride out. Kir’s agreement arrived with a wash of relief undercut with awe. Neither of them would ever get used to having Kari to call on, Anur knew, but he was more accustomed to immediate responses from the top, with Companions having a direct line to the Queen in true emergency, and Fetchers available to send urgent messages across the nation.

Kir had none of that to fall back on, so awe at the _ease_ with which they could contact Sunhame, ask for help and receive it was mixed in with true incredulity that a Firecat, such a blatant sign of the Sunlord’s favor, was available for them to call on. One day Anur knew Kir would break down and begin speaking to Kari directly without having Anur act as the intermediary, but it was a ways off. There were bigger priorities for Kir to focus on without having to deal with his difficulties with mindspeech just yet.

As it was, getting to the 54ths barracks took well over three marks so Solaris’ response had plenty of time to dry and settle. It was a good thing they’d asked in advance though – managing to think of it in the middle of this mess wouldn’t have been likely.

“Damn and blast,” Ulrich grumbled as the gates opened. The bustle of preparing for a long march couldn’t be mistaken for much else, and there was really only one goal Coronad could have had in mind when he ordered them to gather supplies. “Disregarding everything _else_ that’s wrong with this, it’s the middle of winter!” the Captain snarled, dismounting with the rest of them and shoving his reins into the hands of a nervous ensign of the 54th, “Where’s your captain?” he demanded, the ensign’s eyes wide as he took in the party that had come with Ulrich.

“Ensign!”

“Ah – by the chapel, sir!” the young man barked, snapping a salute and Ulrich returned it before stalking off. He was the only one of them that had been to the 54th’s barracks in recent years, as the layout wasn’t quite identical to the 62nd’s.

“We’ll take the horses sir,” Balin said, his brother appearing by Kir’s side to take Riva’s reins. Handing the reins over, Anur kept his eyes on the soldiers he didn’t know while he murmured, “If this gets ugly _leave_. Kir and I can get the captain and sergeant out without fighting our way through and risking injuries.”

“Understood sir,” Balin replied lowly, “We’ll stay near the gates.”

_:Be careful, Chosen.:_

_:Of course.:_

Kir had finished a similar conversation with Galen Sescha and was waiting for him. At Anur’s nod he turned on his heel and swept after Ulrich. He wasn’t quite out of sight yet, and even if he was Kir could probably track him by his buzz or whatever it was Kir heard to use his gift. It helped, of course, that the men of the 54th fairly dove out of Kir’s way, leaving a clear path for them to walk through before closing up behind them, murmurs and mutters picking up in intensity and volume.

“You don’t think it’s actually _true_ –”

“Is their Order even around any – “

“ – Captain’s not going to like this.”

No hostile tones though, nothing truly hateful lurking under the surface.

Anur kept one hand on his sword anyway. Nichter hadn’t been hateful either.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Sergeant Greich knew better than to say anything to him right now and Ulrich sent a brief thanks to the Sunlord for giving him this man as his head non-commissioned officer. The man had forgotten more than Ulrich had ever learned about keeping their unit as safe and strong as possible and he startled at absolutely nothing.

Aside from finding out their chaplain was capable of reducing entire armies to ash, should he so desire, but those were extenuating circumstances in the extreme and he’d still only flinched when Father Kir had glared at him. Ulrich doubted he would have fared so well, it had taken him weeks to bring himself to actually speak to the priest outside of official concerns after that.

Not that he’d spoken with Father Kir any more frequently than necessary before, but he’d gone out of his way to avoid the man after that day on the field. He’d had too much to think about.

At least _now_ he didn’t need to worry about the Sunpriest following him, years down the line and some truly mad situations later. Captain Miles Coronad was giving him more than enough ulcers!

He kept his gaze forward, but his peripheral vision was good enough. Wagons were being loaded with supplies, men were packing for much longer than a patrol or two, extra horses were being prepared on strings and Ulrich wanted to spit. So much for a captain of the Sunsguard having any sense, any _obligation_ to his men to not go and get them all slaughtered in some suicide mission! That was what for the old priesthood was for! It was _their_ job, their _duty_ , to make those madmen’s dreams and fancies possible with minimal loss of life, not to come up with their own harebrained schemes!

He’d thought Miles had understood that, but he’d been wrong about people before.

“Coronad!” he shouted, shoving his way past the last few of the 54th in his way. They’d been focused on the confrontation playing out in front of them and he couldn’t blame them – it wasn’t every day you saw your priest and Captain arguing publically, much less with the priest being the one arguing for reason.

Arguing with a man loosing his hold on reason, Ulrich noted grimly, Coronad turning to him with a mad light in his eyes and a grin on his face, “Captain Drehr!” the man laughed, “You are here to join us then!”

The priest’s expression went blank, the few soldiers standing nearest him tense, and Ulrich wanted to curse. He thought – _they_ thought – that this was going to descend into violence. They thought Ulrich was going to side with Miles and they were going to destroy the priests that had chained them to Sunhame’s commands for so long.

Tehan was no Father Kir, but he was no monster and did not deserve that. At least some of the 54th looked ready to defend him – uneasy about it, how could they not be, but willing to try. This schism might be fixable. Might at least be something they could patch together long enough to get Coronad out of the way, assigned to some less critical, less tempting, post.

“I’m here to ask what the frosted _hells_ you think you’re doing!” Ulrich growled, stopping before he was directly between Coronad and the priest but keeping most of his focus on the other captain. Greich would keep an eye on Tehan until Father Kir and Enforcer Bellamy caught up.

“Preparing to cleanse the north!” the other captain said, startled and losing some of the fanatical gleam in his eyes. There was hope then. “With the war with Ancar draining their resources and keeping them from having eyes entirely on Karse this is the perfect time for it!”

“No, no it’s not! We’re in the midst of a civil rift, how is attacking Valdemar – at full war standing, already stationing troops all over the south, _not in a civil war_ – remotely a good idea?” Ulrich demanded

“The war means it will work!” Coronad countered triumphantly, “All actions can be shoved off on bandits, after all, we’re stretched thin – even their demon-powers can’t deny that truth! Bandits slipping through well, only to be expected, with Ancar to deal with! This is the perfect chance to bleed them!”

Ignoring the fact that Ulrich knew far more about the so-called demon powers than he would have thought possible, making his analysis somewhat biased, Coronad’s logic wasn’t even consistent. How could demon-powers not deny that they were stretched thin, but still fall for the bandit ruse? Especially with Herald-Captain Kerowyn and the Prince-Consort being well-familiar with that tactic!

“With the Demon-Captain and the Witch-Consort well-versed in that old strategy?” Father Kir’s voice came in, his arrival heralded by a sudden rash of murmurs and pallor-stricken faces. He came up to stand beside Ulrich, the Enforcer undoubtedly behind them both and he felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease. Even if, worse come to worse, things did descend into violence, with these two around he and Greich had a fighting chance of getting all four of them out of here.

“No, Captain. Attacking Valdemar is not in Her Eminence’s, nor Karse’s, best interests. Certainly not now, with near constant reformations going on.”

“And you would know of those, _Firestarter_ ,” the other captain snarled, eyes darkening and hand fluttering towards his sword, “What right do _you_ have to say anything of the reforms, child-burner!”

The sharp inhale indicated a blow well-struck and Ulrich’s rage burned to ice. His temper had always been that way, quick to ignite and if he burnt it off, if he let it go, quick to fade. But if it was provoked continuously, never let to finish – it turned cold.

“Coronad,” he said, voice echoing strangely in his own ears as he stepped between his priest, his units’ (his own) _icon_ and this man who’d dared hurt him, “You are beyond reasoning, and you will _hold your tongue._ ”

By Coronad’s expression, his shock at Ulrich coming to Father Kir’s defense, his sense of betrayal, that Ulrich would defend a priest and not a fellow soldier – things were going to get uglier, fast, and he had no idea how to prevent it from happening. All he knew was that letting the man think attacking a priest was acceptable – with words, with knives, with whatever weapon he chose – could only end in disaster.

A curl of fire near his ankles and he didn’t bother looking down. He didn’t need to, the Cat was big enough his peripheral vision let him know just what sort of miracle was sitting at his feet, blue eyes glowing.

 _:It seems you were right, Brother. A direct declaration was necessary,:_ the Cat’s voice echoed in all their minds and by the wild-eyed looks coming over the soldiers of the 54th it was a wide broadcast.

“I was hopeful that it wouldn’t be, but yes,” Father Kir said aloud, tone grim and composure undoubtedly entirely recovered from Coronad’s verbal blade. He wouldn’t let that hurt show until there were no witnesses but the Enforcer, Ulrich was sure.

Stepping aside so Father Kir could speak to Coronad directly, he let his eyes scan the crowd surrounding them – over half the men were on their knees, Tehan among them and those standing looked uncomfortable doing it. They were following their captain, but were feeling uneasy about it. Getting him transferred along with some of the officers that followed him closely should be enough to fix this then. Good, he wasn’t looking forward to reading some new captain in to the mess of the 54th and 62nds relations as it was. A full culling and replacement would be a nightmare.

Bellamy was watching Coronad with narrowed eyes and a blandly terrifying expression. He had come to know the man relatively well in the past years and found him a valuable resource and a good ally, if not a friend, but he also knew very well just how far the man was willing to go in defense of his brother. The other captain had no idea how lucky he was that there were witnesses surrounding them and a Firecat talking him down, because he didn’t doubt the man would be dead or suffering otherwise.

He had seen soldiers like these two before, and men who’d felt alone, felt _shunned,_ all their lives would defend chosen brothers with a viciousness he could hardly understand. The Herald would be all the worse for it because he hadn’t resigned himself to it like Father Kir had, hadn’t expected that sort of isolation in his homeland, where Heralds were beloved, were considered a true brotherhood without all the infighting and backstabbing of the brotherhood of Vkandis.

Whatever it was that had driven the man to latch onto Father Kir like air for a drowning man, he didn’t have much sympathy for those responsible. When Father Kir found out who it was they were going to be in for a hell of a time, and Ulrich wouldn’t mind standing in line to help.

 _:Valdemar is not to be targeted. War is_ not _to be declared and missions against those surrounding us will_ never _be authorized unprovoked. Do not mistake us, Captain. There is still evil in this world to burn – but ancient prejudice, old corruption and_ apathy _let those targets warp. And should you forget - :_

A crimson and orange paw thudded against the dirt, another curl of flame leaving a seal-bedecked scroll in its wake, _:There. An official declaration from Her Eminence Solaris, outlining much the same. Make sure you read it – and make sure you_ follow _it.:_

“If you have any questions later,” Bellamy said, voice icy enough to burn in itself, “His Holiness also speaks with Solaris’ Voice, should you require clarification.”

“We’re done here,” Ulrich said flatly, looking to the Senior Leiutenant that was second in command of the unit, the man one of the first to hit his knees when the Firecat had arrived and slightly more trustworthy for it. “Get the men resettled and send the usual replacement cycle to the 103rd within the day.”

“Understood,” the man said, pre-empting Coronad and just as well, the man didn’t look like he was capable of speech just yet. The officer slowly rose to his feet and focused on Kir, offering a slight bow and saying, “Thank you for preventing our acting against the Sunlord’s Will.”

Father Kir inclined his head and said simply, “Go with Vkandis then.”

The Senior Lieutenant offered a full bow at that point, the other officers nearby jumping slightly and doing the same before the man took charge and started barking orders to get the 54th resettled and the supplies stored away again for proper use, rather than some absurd march. The seal-bedecked scroll was scooped up by another man and shoved into the captain’s hands before he was ushered away, clearly still in shock.

“Thank Vkandis that worked,” Ulrich muttered, looking at this Firecat properly and raising an eyebrow at the different coloring, “You are not Hansa.”

Father Kir coughed, saying ruefully, “No, Hansa is with Solaris on a permanent basis now. This is Kari.”

“Then you have my thanks, Honored Kari,” Ulrich said, offering the Cat a bow, “I did not know how we were going to talk the man down from that one.”

“We weren’t,” Bellamy said, sounding almost disappointed and while Ulrich couldn’t quite blame him, understood where he was coming from, he still offered a thankful prayer that he’d never found himself on the other side of this lethally protective pair.

“Let’s get out of here, sirs,” Greich muttered, eyes darting around the 54th warily, “No need to overstay our welcome.”

“Father Tehan, if you could join us for a moment,” Father Kir said, the other priest rising to his feet and nodding wearily, “Yes, Brother, there is much to be discussed.”

He would leave those matters to Father Kir, and quite happily. Dealing with Sunsguard drama was enough, trying to manage the reform of an entire ruling class along with holy doctrine was very much not his problem and thank the Sunlord for that. Had he been in Father Kir’s shoes, he’d already be making tracks for Valdemar. Captain Naomi had offered him an escape route, should he ever want it, and his Valdemaran was passable by now.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Tehan was clearly exhausted, on edge, and utterly relieved that his own position had been supported so very blatantly. Infighting between the Sunsguard and the priests stationed with them was usually much more subtle – for it to become so public, had he lost the argument any and all respect the men had held for him would have been lost and, in the old ways at least, he could have expected a knife in the back any moment.

Judging by the way there were a few soldiers hovering nearby at all times, Kir doubted it would have come to that for this priest, but it still would have been exhausting and terrifying.

“How long has this been going on?”

“The obsession with Valdemar? As long as I’ve known the man, he was apparently stationed with Brynhild during the bandit-raids on Menmellith and was part of the escort that captured a Demonrider. When they escaped and Brynhild died he lost quite a bit of status and nursed a grudge ever since,” Tehan answered, keeping pace with Kir but darting his eyes to gaze at Kari every so often. Kir couldn’t blame him, he still found himself watching Kari with a bemused sense of wonder and doubted it would ever leave.

He hoped it would never leave

“This preparation – some of it came when we heard of your unit’s supply difficulties, he wanted to stockpile some in the event we hit the same. Never happened, but it was a solid justification. After the Rethwellen army mess he was more vocally in favor of acting against Valdemar, but a week ago was the first I heard anything of him actually planning to _do_ something about it. I’ve spent the days since trying to talk him down, today was just the latest and to be honest, last-ditch attempt.”

“Not entirely without reason then,” Kir murmured, continuing lowly enough that the nearer soldiers of the 54th wouldn’t hear, “Should he… lose reason again, do you have contacts in Sunhame?”

“Few,” the other priest replied, keeping his own voice equally quiet, “But reachable.”

“Ask them to relay a message to Jaina, First Order Firestarter, or Seras, Second Order. Either of them can get word to me immediately and if I’m not with the 62nd, to Solaris. We _cannot_ afford military action at this time and it is not in Her Emminence’s plans to engage without provocation.”

“You keep using that disclaimer – Hardorn? I relayed the concerns on blood magic but heard nothing back,” Tehan asked, not as careful to keep his voice down but by the grateful look in his eyes, more than happy to have names he could reach out to should Coronad forget what he’d heard today.

“Not surprising,” Kir said, voice sour as he thought of the previous regime’s endless _dodging_ , “And yes. He’s only grown hungrier for land and victories, and the Valdemarans aren’t obliging him. He’ll turn his eyes towards us soon enough.”

“Wonderful,” Tehan sighed, stopping alongside Kir and they exchanged blessing gestures, “I thank you for the warning – and the advice.”

“Vkandis bless and guide, brother,” Kir murmured, taking Riva’s reins from Galen with a nod of thanks and mounting up, Kari leaping up to sit behind him, a lump of warmth against his back. Matters here had been resolved at least, and no blood had been shed.

Thank the One God, no blood had been shed.

“Thank Vkandis that worked,” Ulrich echoed his sentiments as they rode out, gates shutting behind their group.

 _:Indeed,:_ Kari chuckled, and by the twitches he was still broadcasting. _:That should stick long enough for his reassignment orders to make it.:_

“If not I might vote for an accident,” Greich said sourly, not bothering overmuch with keeping his voice down. There were no men on the walls of the 54th, they had other matters they were dealing with. “The man is next to impossible to reason with nowadays and if he’s anywhere near the north when Valdemar gets declared an ally he’ll go on a one-man crusade of his own.”

“Pay up that counts!” Galen’s hiss to his brother carried considerably further than he’d planned, judging by the scout’s cornered expression when they turned to him.

“Ah… we had a bet about whether or not Father Kir had a Firecat?” he offered hesitantly, the other twin adding, “Seven moons ago with the implication being _at that time_ , does _not_ count!”

“Doesn’t count either way,” Kir said, amused that they’d taken to betting on something like this, especially as these two had been there for the Cat of Fire incident and knew that then, at least, Kir had never had a Firecat call on him. “Kari is for the entire Firestarting Order, not me.”

 _:Kir, if he were here just for you, you’d have hit the door running and wouldn’t have stopped,:_ Anur said dryly. His dismissal of that detail seemed rather universal judging by the amused glances exchanged between the soldiers and Kir wanted to shake them. Anur being right was immaterial, the other Firestarters _deserved_ Kari, _needed_ him, his reassurance, in a way he simply _didn’t_.

“And I’m sure they need his guidance and earned Vkandis’ favor,” Ulrich said peaceably, Kir’s immediate gratitude for him understanding rather undercut by his continuation, “Though I doubt they would have fared so well had you not been part of their Order.”

“Head of the Order, now,” Anur chuckled, “Which comes with some hilarious titles, I have to say.”

“Like what?” Balin asked slyly, Kir saying, “Anur don’t you da- !”

“Illuminatorius!” Anur crowed, dodging his fireball with a cackle, Aelius spinning on his heel to dodge another half-hearted strike, “Luminary! Incandescence!”

“BELLAMY!”

“Ah! Not the hair!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freaking FINALLY. Seriously - Coronad was not cooperating. I wrote 13 distinct versions of this chapter only to come back to one of the first ones I wrote. Gah!
> 
> Was kind of excited to hear from Ulrich's perspective though - and now his backstory is way more intriguing than I thought! Man these characters are so awesome (except YOU Coronad, jerk). Have chapters sketched out but classes start tomorrow (and now I'm teaching so...) no promises, as usual. I'll try to be faster though, I do really love these guys and exploring their world. Just not always chronologically (I'm looking at YOU, Mage-Storms).
> 
> Final note - I was rereading By the Sword, and let me say, from that reading it’s a freaking miracle the Guild EVER considered taking a contract with Karse again, no matter WHAT sort of up front fee was paid because holy shit. I HAD to include their earlier discussion as a plot point, because Lackey? No one sane, no one logical would EVER agree to the contract. Ever. The only way it would be remotely possible is the fact that there have been 10 or so years since a major campaign between Karse and mercenary troops (when Kero met Eldan). The Skybolts fought the Prophet the year they came to Valdemar, but they were the only mercenaries involved so…
> 
> Just – anyway, that reread was awesome, but really complicated my future arcs (in a totally good way, I hope).


	19. Letters to the Bellamys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarity - these letters are written from Kir and Anur's last visit to the letter they handed Naomi when she stopped by the 62nd.

**2nd Year of Selenay and Darenthallis’ Reign, Vernal Moon**

_Dear family,_

_Thanks again for the visit and_ sorry _I wasn’t clear when I wrote that we were coming home, I didn’t realize you’d think something was deathly wrong with Kir when he didn’t write! I wanted the visit to be a surprise ambush or he’d never agree to leave the unit behind. As it was I had to blackmail him with saying I’d already sent word we were visiting and did he really want to disappoint Mara like that (Mara, you’re brilliant blackmail, just so you know)._

_Kir’s breathing is all right, I’m keeping an eye on him and not letting him be stupid – that’s what we’re doing now actually, sitting inside, out of the rain, because he doesn’t need to get pneumonia. I think he’s made more knotwork pieces in the past two moons than he has in the past year, we’ll have to go get him more string soon._

_Jer, I don’t think many Firestarters can do what Kir did – at the very least, if Herald Griffon comes through, I wouldn’t try to do any work you actually needed to get done with his help. Last I heard he was still struggling with the finer control stuff but that was a while ago so who knows, he might be better._

_Ma, I’ll try and hunt up the actual spices for that cake for you, but no promises! Hope you’re all doing all right and pass on my greetings to everyone!_

_Love,_

_Anur_

_Dear Bellamys,_

_I second the thanks on the visit, it was much needed even if I_ didn’t _need to be blackmailed into it, I was just worried about leaving my post on such short notice. Mara, ignore your uncle. He’s an idiot._

_He’s also overreacting to the injury but I’m going to let him for a while longer, it will give me more leverage the next time he does something stupid and tries to stop me from ‘fussing’ over him. He’s right about the forge-work being relatively uncommon amongst Firestarters – at least the Karsite type, the only reason I started it was because I was rather desperate to get out of the Temple District for a few marks a week – with forge-work being both valuable and practice for flames it was easy to justify, I don’t know of anyone else who’s done something similar. Griffon is your best bet though, should he pass through and you want to experiment._

_I would suggest lots of sand and water if you try that though, and no apprentices._

_Mara, Karsite-Valdemaran dictionaries aren’t exactly common, we’ve only got one copy ourselves and we rather need it for translating dispatches. I’ll see what I can do but no promises._

_There’s nothing else on our end – weather is still seasonable but extreme at least. I don’t look forward to the next stage._

_Vkandis bless and guide,_

_Kir_

**2nd Year of Selenay and Darenthallis’ Reign, Hunter’s Moon**

_Dear Family,_

_Sorry for the long delay, I don’t really have an excuse we weren’t even that busy, relatively speaking. Most of our time was spent in the northern reaches, though we had an interesting adventure or two in the southern stretches. I’ll have to tell you about them someday – turns out, Companions on Search don’t really remember the ‘search’ part, just a sort of daze as they scramble towards their Chosen. Very disorienting. Seems a little silly, to have them traveling alone that vulnerable but in Valdemar only an idiot would attack a Companion so at least there’s that._

_Have you heard anything about Princess Elspeth’s quest? We’ve gotten that there was an assassination attempt that made it to the capital by magecraft so she got permission to take herself and another Herald (Skif, I think I mentioned him in stories once or twice?) out of the Kingdom to recruit mages and see why they can’t be in Valdemar._

_We know that last one at least, its_ vrondi _, but no one knows why they drive mages out of Valdemar so she needs to figure that out or any mages that cross our borders are going to go crazy within a moon and the last thing we need are_ crazy _mages in our borders. Ancar’s are bad enough and they’re somewhat sane._

_I hope she can find some, and find out how to make Valdemar safe from them. It’s been nearly five years and he shows no signs of giving up – it’s not sustainable, on either end. It’s just a matter of who bleeds out first, and it_ can’t _be us._

_I’m so damn glad you’re all well out of it. I hope Pascal is all right, Lilah. I’ll keep an ear out for him but I’m sort of in the wrong country for it._

_Love,_

_Anur_

_Dear Bellamys,_

_I echo Anur’s relief that you’re so far north (relatively speaking, I really hope I have no cause to go past your home in winter, Anur’s told stories about Sorrows winters and why would anyone live there? It sounds horrible!) and also echo his promise on Pascal – I have even less a chance of hearing about him, but I’ll keep an ear out for him and his unit nonetheless._

_Though if I ever had cause to meet him on the battlefield for some reason I don’t think my claims of brotherhood with Anur would be very believable or reassuring…_

_Regardless, we’ll keep an ear out. The adventures southward were relatively straightforward, though I didn’t know that about the Companion’s search being similar. I’ll have to ask Aelius about it when we have time._

_Both Aelius and Riva are doing well and Aelius passes on greetings and hopes for a visit someday soon, he’s fond of your stables and the children constantly feeding him apples and spoiling him rotten. I rather doubt we’ll be able to visit anytime soon but perhaps this winter._

_Vkandis bless and guide,_

_Kir_

**2nd Year of Selenay and Darenthallis’ Reign, Midwinter**

_Dear family,_

_Kir and I won’t be able to make it this year (obviously) but have sent some small gifts for the kids and some tea-blends, I remember Jana asking after Kir’s headache blend the last time we visited. He wrote the herbs out in Karsite, I wrote the ones I recognized in Valdemaran but I don’t know if we have some of them, he’d have to show me samples of the plant._

_Aelius and I are having a great time of it, and watching Kir’s back is never boring! It’s a lot easier now, turns out Kir can mindspeak, he just doesn’t like to use it much. Aelius and I are okay though, so that makes things easier – and makes boring meetings a lot more enjoyable!_

_All is well here, and hope all is well with you. Also, Mara – nice effort with the letter! It took us a while to figure it out – Karsite doesn’t have the same alphabet, but Kir’s attaching that._

_Love,_

_Anur_

_Dear Bellamys,_

_I look at the letters he passes me now and compare them to the first one he sent you; night and day! He’s gotten so much better at this – of course I’m still reminding him to write half the time but that’s a different project._

_I honestly don’t know when we’ll be able to visit again, slipping away last time was difficult and we’re only going to be getting busier. We’ll do our best in the coming year, but it may very well be two or three before we can truly visit, and I do apologize for that as it’s mostly my commitments and duties that are keeping us in the south. Anur still refuses to head home on his own, the idiot._

_I’m attaching a rewritten copy of Mara’s letter in actual Karsite script, word for word – then I rewrote it with proper grammar, but there weren’t many changes to be made. My reply to her is written below that, in Karsite. I think you’ll be able to manage it, Mara._

_You may hear some odd rumors coming from down south – all I can assure you of is that Anur is going to be fine, if I have to burn our way to Jkatha and work around the long way to do it._

_Vkandis bless and guide,_

_Kir Dinesh_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some time-jumping! Have some chapters to bridge the gap a bit, but hopefully soon we can really get moving again.


	20. The Great Reformation

In future decades, the year of Solaris’ Ascent would be studied and discussed and dissected in depth, every announcement analyzed for why it had been worded that way, why it had been announced on that day in particular. Change was viewed as a continuous, rolling wave, transforming Karse smoothly from pre- to post-Solaris.

To any who had lived through any sort of government upheavel and revolution, the very idea of things being so simple would send them into gales of laughter. To those living through the reforms in the very moment, there was no time for laughter, hardly time to fear what these changes meant – it was all they could do to keep up.

Senior Lieutenant Devek Koshiro found himself counseling his Captain, offering advice to the other men in his unit, because at least he had an idea of what was coming, between his continued correspondence with Jakyr Kalesh and his now two-way correspondence with Father Kir.

“Arm the populace?” one of the officers asked, brow furrowed as he read the latest dispatches from Sunhame. “Why in the hells would she do that?”

“Reassures them that should anyone try and reinstate the old ways they can take up arms,” Devek suggested, brow furrowed as he tried to remember what they’d discussed on the way to Almondale. “With the restructuring of the guard there won’t be as many Sunsguard to go around for at least a year or two, they need to be able to offer some sort of defense.”

“Against what, your Hardornen horror stories?” one of the newer officers scoffed; the corpsman and Captain alike just shook their heads, having either seen the _bishra_ ’s affects or heard all the details. Devek just gave the man a tight-lipped smile and didn’t bother trying to convince the idiot again. They’d find out soon enough of the wretches to their northeast.

“Well arms are being sent out,” the captain shrugged, “Nothing else for it. We might as well make sure they know what they’re doing and don’t just stab themselves the first time they pick up a blade.”

 

Kiara Dinesh listened for stories of the one that might be her brother, but didn’t hear even the old stories as much anymore. People had better, more exciting things to talk about than rumors of a Firestarter that wasn’t a madman bent on burning the world. No, instead, she heard talk of mercenaries being contracted to substitute for the Sunsguard so a restructuring could happen without letting brigands run wild.

She heard talk of women gaining more legal rights, her first mate and she exchanging sardonic looks because it was all well and good to say women could own property, could be leaders of a business, and another matter entirely to make it happen as she and her mother and her grandmother had with the help of loopholes and skill.

She heard talk of children no longer being taken for the priesthood unwillingly, no longer burned, and was unsurprised to find her mother and grandmother knocking back _prodka_ and bitterly grieving that it had come too late, always too late.

She heard talk of all sorts of things, but none the thing she was truly interested in, was almost hopefully waiting for. Because if the Firestarter-not-mad _was_ real, he would fit in well with this new regime. If the Firestarter-not-mad _was_ her brother, she might one day be able to meet him.

 

The Comb was still buried in winter snow, but the forests had started to shed their coats and Trevyr Nachtaben had started calling foresters to the tower again in preparation for the coming fire season. He stared out over the rolling carpet of evergreens, let his eyes trace the familiar charred zone he had lost half his foresters to those years ago, and felt himself smile nonetheless.

News was slow to come out here, but this news had come faster than most – news of revolution, of change in Sunhame of true _miracles_ – that wasn’t something to delay. He wondered if that Firestarter chaplain were in the thick of it, was performing some of those miracles the rumors were running so wild over.

Fury summonings were anathema now, the burning of children and witches was forbidden, witches not even witches at all. He no longer had to look the other way when two of his men took longer than average patrols together, went out of their way to avoid town-runs when the other was left behind, because what they had between them was no longer anathema.

Remembering what else they had seen, when the Firestarter and his Enforcer came riding through – Trevyr looked towards the barren ground of White Foal pass and couldn’t help but wonder. If witches were no longer witches, had never truly been witches, if Furies were truly demons, were wretches now banned – what were those the old regime had called demons? Had called evil incarnate?

He had a long patrol scheduled once someone got to the tower to relieve him. He’d pack some extra _prodka_ for his trip north. He owed that white-rider ghost thanks.

 

The clack of wooden chimes in the breeze were soothing as nothing else, Anika ignoring them entirely in favor of lunging forward with her blunted spear, laughing as Jakyr barely avoided getting his feet knocked out from under him, the Lieutenant in the Sunsguard just grinning and coming in for another flurry of strikes with his dull practice sword. This was his third visit since they’d met over the smoking ruins of her oasis’ innocence, and she knew very well that while his first visit may well have been to ensure things were working out all right with the new priest Her Eminence had sent, to pass on a missive from His Holiness Dinesh, it wasn’t duty that brought him back.

She was busy reveling in the changes that had come to her country though. Busy building up this town again, learning all that Father Loshern had to teach her about finding evil and destroying it, on turning her sight into a tool to heal and hunt in her God’s name – far too busy for anything so low on her list of priorities as romance.

But Jakyr was kind, found nothing odd or disturbing in a woman learning to fight, in standing on her own feet, and she could see herself growing to truly care for him given time. If he was still interested when things calmed a bit, when she had settled in her own skin, then she might see where they could go.

For now though, she’d just take advantage of his arms lessons.

 

The Lord Marshal had finally finished analyzing and examining and stewing over the dispatches from Herald Bellamy and could tell that something was missing, that Naomi and the Herald both were leaving something out. But he knew Naomi personally, and he knew better than to doubt a Herald’s loyalty to Valdemar, so he would let it lie, ridiculous rumors aside.

But he would put the word out that he was interested in the truth, that he wanted confirmation on some of the wild stories coming out of Karse, and if he didn’t get word in the next moons – he would speak to Herald Eldan.


	21. Field Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY about the glitch - apparently my draft posted?!?! I was checking something and saw it was there and immediately deleted it but apparently alerts got sent out and some people had actually read it in full already...
> 
> Anyway, it's DRASTICALLY changed from the draft. Concepts are still there but presentation and execution has been rearranged to flow better (I hope). Had some fun, some seriousness, and some more foreshadowing regarding family stuff - also, Anur's phobia of small children strikes again! Hope you enjoy.

“So this is supposed to prevent any more of Witach’s brood from reaching Karse? And thank you for those nightmares, I definitely needed to know about those wretches,” Naomi directed the last comment Ulrich’s way, the Karsite captain merely raising an eyebrow and saying dryly, “You asked.”

“The _vrondi_ seem to serve a similar role for Valdemar – no impact on the weather imbalances, of course, but there would have been evidence of things going wrong along the border – fouled water, dying fields and the like,” Kir tried to reassure her, “So it’s unlikely your people will be facing them at all.”

“Wonderful,” the Valdemaran captain grimaced, eyeing the carved metal disc she’d ridden here to fetch. It was nearly Midsummer, the day this rite was to take place, and Kir was loathe to leave a segment of Karse’s border unprotected because his Order was shorthanded. Without a Firestarter to anchor it, the stretch of Hardornen border closest to Valdemar would have a weaker net than the rest, but it wouldn’t be entirely unprotected. With Kir stationed here most of the time anyway, working additional purification patrols into the standard scouting runs would be manageable, so the lands wouldn’t suffer for it.

“So all we have to do is bury it in the disputed zone? How obvious will this rite be?” Naomi still looked uncomfortable with the idea, but Kir well knew after years of collaboration with the woman that it had more to do with the typical Valdemaran’s engrained mistrust of magic than any distaste for helping a rite of the Sunlord.

“This is modified from a standard circle, so we don’t entirely know,” Kir gave a wry smile, rewarming his tea absently. The four of them been in Ulrich’s office for a little over a mark, looking over the maps and explaining just what they needed to have happen – Greich had bowed out so he could join forces with Corinth to terrorize their soldiers and Janner had quickly absconded Healer Joss into their own conference.

By now he wouldn’t be surprised if the hill shepherds expected riders in blue and black to be crossing the dead zone without a care.

“With the circle, upon activation the line would be scorched into the ground, so in the most dramatic case, a barrier of fire will run across the entire border and leave a scorched line in the earth. When that line fades away, it indicates that the wards must be renewed.”

“Doesn’t damage anything to cover the line up though,” Anur pointed out, having asked after this when they’d been working on the redesign, “So a liberal scattering of debris every so often to keep a literal line in the sand from being visible might be in order.”

“Oh it will definitely be in order – nothing in the cards for this mess being public in Valdemar just yet?” Naomi snorted, raising an eyebrow at Kir who shrugged helplessly, spreading his hands as he explained.

“The best we can hope for is Midwinter, and with that being an exact anniversary of Solaris’ Ascent…”

“Best to keep things focused on her and simple, to show stability and what not,” Naomi agreed, eyes narrowing, “And I’m guessing one of these High Holy Days would be necessary too, for such a dramatic shift to be feasible.”

“Definitely,” Anur barked a laugh, “Though having it happen on some random Solsday would be hysterically funny, it wouldn’t have the right impact or be as likely to work.”

“So next Midsummer at the earliest,” Naomi grimaced, “I don’t think any later is feasible without some serious backlash against all of us. As it is, it’ll be rough.”

“Next Midsummer is the goal,” Kir agreed, deciding not to think overmuch on the potential consequences of Valdemar’s higher ups finding out just what the border units – what _Anur_ – had been up to these past years. Half the reason they’d started meeting with the Valdemarans more regularly was Naomi’s insistence that Anur become more than a name to her newest recruits. They were willing to lie for their Herald, but it was a much easier sell when their Herald was actually a person.

The joint scouting patrols also took a burden off both Captains, allowing them to spread their forces more thoroughly and keep the bandit problem beaten down. It wouldn’t do for all their hard work in the beginning to slide away now that things were getting chaotic down south.

It especially wouldn’t do for any mercenaries to be sent north. So long as there were no bandit nests they couldn’t deal with, Solaris had agreed to leave the northern border to the Sunsguard and have the mercenaries focus more on the central and southern reaches of Karse, but if they couldn’t keep people safe, they’d have to step around mercenaries as well as their own people. There were only so many ways a secret could be kept, and none of them wanted the extra complications mercenaries in the north would bring. Maybe when the alliance was publicized, if they were still around. But not before then, and given the current negotiations with the guild there would be mercenaries in Karse well before next Midsummer.

“Something to drink to,” Naomi rubbed at her temples tiredly, “All right. Bury the disc at least three feet under the ground, somewhere in the vicinity of the Karse-Valdemar-Hardorn junction. We can manage that. Hopefully any wall of fire that happens will be short.”

“Rarely over a foot, if it even reaches that height,” Kir offered.

“I am going to have so much fun explaining this come next year,” Naomi huffed, a rueful smile on her face nonetheless. “Bah – I’ll get Joss to do it. He’s the one that showed up insisting on getting in on the excitement.”

“Worst come, you are welcome to hide out in Karse. The 103rd won’t be replaced for a while yet, and Coronad’s orders are due soon, so we have plenty of space to hide Valdemarans,” Ulrich offered sincerely, and the captains shared a laugh. There had been quite a few offers of sanctuary – both joking and not – from both sides and at all levels. Kir didn’t doubt that the Sescha twins had gotten verbal agreements from quite a few shepherds to hide blue-uniformed soldiers in their lofts if need be.

Hopefully it would never come to that. But it was good to know that if it did, burning everything to ash wasn’t the only option.

***===***pagebreak***===***

“So once this ward is up, you’ll be heading to Sunhame for your two weeks?” Balin asked, giving the ground near the buried stave one last stomp, shovel over his shoulder. Aside from Naomi’s disk, the other twelve all had staves secured to them, mostly to make the discs easier to find when it came time to renew the protection, but they were all going to hang carved windchimes from them and some of the better engravers in Sunhame had put quite a bit of work into making the staves themselves an added focal point to the rite.

“Stopping by Aulch to let Rodri say his farewells, and then yes,” Kir sighed, eyeing the stave’s shadow. Almost noon, but Kari hadn’t called to say the others were in position yet, “I’m just glad I got to miss Sunhame’s Midsummer this year. I don’t think I’ll get out of the next one.”

“If the Valdemar alliance is announced then? No sir, I don’t think you will,” Galen agreed sympathetically, “You’ll probably have to be there for Midwinter too, what with that conclave business you mentioned.”

Kir just grimaced, unwilling to admit that the scout was probably right. Anur and he had spent a under eight weeks in Sunhame so far, and while he wouldn’t say it was too much – it was too much. He still hated the city. Better, not as lethal, as poisonous, as it had been before Solaris, but still loud and dangerous in a way he really didn’t care for. At least in the 62nd he knew what sort of threats to expect.

Thankfully, the Firestarters had started venturing out more and more as summer began, so he hadn’t actually had to spend the last visit south in Sunhame for more than a day or two. Between checking on Lumira’s congregation of converted Hardornens, finally somewhat stable if still devoted to the idea of Lumira being their noble landholding lord, confirming with Henrik that the purification of Peaks’ Town was proceeding as scheduled, and keeping Tristan, Valerik and Colbern from murdering each other while they kept the fatlands cleansed, the few days in Sunhame catching up with Rodri and the others had been almost relaxing.

“Too bad the Enforcer couldn’t have helped us with the digging,” Balin grumbled half-heartedly, Kir chuckling as he handed over his own borrowed shovel, reminding him, “He can’t use his fetching to dig right now anyway, Rodri is with him.”

“Not reading the kid in? Probably a fair plan,” Galen admitted, exchanging a glance with his twin, “Knowing a secret that big would put him at a lot of risk.”

“Precisely. Also, if there’s any resentment within the Order for not telling them about Anur in advance of Solaris’ announcements, I would prefer it not affect him. He has nowhere to flee to for years yet,” Kir grimaced. He and Anur had debated it a fair bit in the past moons, but it kept coming down to the risk for Rodri far outweighing the benefits. They weren’t around him enough for Anur’s status as a Herald to ever become something he needed to know – by the time Rodri was old enough to join them on rounds or whatever they ended up doing for his acolyte years, the alliance would be formalized and everyone would know Anur was a Herald. Or at least, it wouldn’t be kept a strict secret.

Rodri was at enough risk being a Firestarter initiate, being _Kir’s_ initiate, and he couldn’t justify adding to that for little to no actual gain when compared to simply waiting and letting him find out with the rest.

 _:Ready here,:_ Anur said, _:Kari says it’s a few more moments for the rest. Need my eyes?:_

 _:Probably a good idea,:_ Kir grimaced, waving the twins back as he drew some purified silk cord out of his pocket. They had started designing this warding schema during his second visit to Sunhame – Tristan and Henrik had dealt with tainted waters near the fatlands, and the idea of Karse’s most fertile land being poisoned was enough to kick the rest of the priesthood into action behind them. Even with some of the best minds turning to the redesign of this ward, they hadn’t been able to figure out a way to incorporate non-Firestarters _or_ require fewer than twelve focal points. If they’d had another year, even a few more moons for testing, they might have come up with something.

But there’d been weekly purification patrols using Lumira’s congregation as a base, and they’d been _necessary_. This couldn’t be put off any longer.

So Rodri was holding his own focal point with Anur, Kari and Aelius for back-up, along with the members of the 62nd that had ridden out to meet them. If Kir had his preference the twins would have been with them, having worked with Anur more extensively than the rest, but it hadn’t taken more than mentioning the idea to Anur for it to be thrown aside. Getting him to accompany Rodri had been difficult enough as it was.

He again thanked the Sunlord for Kari. Explaining why he thought Aelius might be able to help Rodri avoid killing himself with magical backlash wasn’t an option and without some form of backstop no one would have agreed to giving Rodri this job.

Explaining that he and Anur could see through each others eyes and occasionaly craft workings through one another’s perspective would have been less disastrous, but still not ideal. Kari was covering for a multitude of discussions best left for later.

 _:Everyone is ready,:_ Kari’s voice echoed oddly – perhaps the range made things transfer differently? _:On my mark. Three. Two. One. Mark.:_

As one, the Firestarters chanted. Kir let his eyes slip half-shut, old Karsite no longer spoken falling from his lips, flames sparking at his feet and curling around the stave, outlining carved prayer-patterns and leaving a golden glow behind, pulsing with the chant. Through Anur’s eyes he could see Rodri saying the same prayers, hear Rodri’s voice in time with his own – through Kari, through his Order – he could hear echoes of everyone.

Jaina’s voice provided counterpoint to Colbern’s gruff tones, Seras’ precise accent countered Valerik’s occasional botched vowel, Kavrick was listening to Maltin’s flute, letting his apprentice’s music keep time. From the mountains to the deserts he heard Fabron and Lumira and Laskaris, bracing the fatlands were echoes from Henrik and Tristan – at every anchor, every person, flames of golden-orange were dancing, building the base, the focal points, for a sieve. Nothing tainted could be allowed to pass – there would be no _bishra_ to silence voices, no _corlga_ dancing on blood-stained cobblestones – not when there was fire and will and faith to prevent it.

Kir let the string he’d knotted and tangled with spells and will drop into flame. He didn’t need it anymore. The net had been tied – now was the time to fling.

 _Vkandis Sunlord_ , he prayed, he breathed, _Protect this land._

Fire roared.

Flinging his head back, he laughed, feeling nothing but exhultation as the fire he had called, as the fire _they_ had called, raced east – raced north – ran from spark to spark from edge to edge until for a brief moment – for the briefest instant – the entire border with Hardorn was alight. He almost imagined he could hear Captain Naomi swearing.

_Be cleansed._

Kir lowered his arms and breathed, hearing the twins murmuring prayers behind him and he bowed his head, adding his own thanks to theirs and taking the final step – he hung the windchime. Heat curled around him as he did it, containing faint traces of every Firestarters’ signature, and he smiled as he stepped back. A working this complex, this daring – this _uniting_ – it was a wonderful thing. A fantastic symbol of what their Order could become.

Doing anything on this large a scale again would have to wait though, he noted ruefully, unable to keep himself from swaying a bit. Without the power boost of performing the rite on a High Holy Day they never would have been able to pull it off.

“Father Kir, everything all right?” Balin asked, catching his arm before he stumbled, a wondrous awe in his eyes even as his tone was matter-of-fact. Their practicality was worth their weight in _chava_ some days.

“More than,” Kir reassured him, “Just tired. That was an extensive working.”

_:Anur? Everything all right?:_

_:Rodri’s asleep on his feet,:_ Anur reported ruefully, _:Managed to catch him before he completely passed out. Kari says it worked – probably won’t actually snap the control of soldiers invading, but it wasn’t designed for that anyway.:_

 _:A nationwide border for that would be horrifically difficult, and undoubtedly brittle,:_ Kir agreed, _:No – purification of tainted lands and spirits is enough. Soldiers will have to be dealt with more physically. Traveler’s chapel for the rendezvous?:_

_:Yeah, he’s not going to make it back to Aulch in this state.:_

“We’re going to meet Anur and the others at the traveler’s chapel – the one we stayed at on the way to Aulch,” Kir reported, waving off the offer to help him onto Riva’s saddle. Riva and he had worked out mounting while exhausted years ago, and this was far from the most tired he’d been while hauling himself into the saddle. That honor went to a disastrous few days spent dealing with Furies during his first year or so at the 62nd.

“Probably for the best,” Galen agreed, strapping the shovels to his packs before mounting up. “Don’t know that we’d make it to Aulch or the 62nd before full-dark – takes little over a half-day to get either place from here and it’s been a full mark since noon.”

Startled, Kir checked the shadows and sure enough, it had been a full mark. No wonder they were so drained. He was just glad he’d convinced the others that having _someone_ there to watch their back – be it an acolyte, another priest or two, some of Lumira’s Hardornens or members of the actual Sunsguard – would be a good idea. He doubted any of them were in shape for hard riding right now.

Thankfully, they didn’t need to set a blistering pace. Riva’s easy jog was more than enough to get them to the traveler’s chapel within two marks, and Kir was fairly certain he’d dozed off in the saddle at some point. The sheer luxury of being able to do that – both in that he trusted Riva, and in that he trusted his company to have his back – was incredible. Especially when he compared it to the atmosphere in some of the villages they’d ridden through during various trips to and from Sunhame. They’d have to avoid the worst offenders entirely on their way south – he didn’t want to let Rodri see that sort of that bitterness again if he could help it. Kavrick had planned to take a similar route on the way out here with Rodri and Maltin a few weeks ago; no one wanted the younger members of their Order exposed to that venom. Eventually it would be unavoidable, but until then they’d stick to travelers’ chapels and back roads.

“We can take Riva sir, you’d best just sit down,” Balin said, steadying him when he slid off Riva’s back, clinging to the saddle to keep himself upright. Kir grimaced as he waited for his legs to feel less like they’d give out on him at a moment’s notice, nodding agreement with the soldier.

“Agreed,” he said, “I don’t think I’m going to be alert much longer. Anur and the others are not far out, there should be room enough for sheltering all seven of us for one night – and it is summer.”

“We’ll manage just fine sir,” Balin agreed, taking Riva’s reins, “Do you need assistance getting to the chapel?”

“I think I can manage that,” Kir snorted, before continuing honestly, “Not much else though.”

True to his word, he managed to get inside and promptly claimed the nearest pew to pass out on. He’d slept in worse places, and this would keep him out of the way when the others got settled. But mostly, if he hadn’t lain down he’d have fallen down. _:Kari?:_ he called blearily, _:Please make sure everyone makes it somewhere safe to collapse.:_

_:Of course Eldest. And congratulations on the working – it’s truly impressive.:_

***===***pagebreak***===***

“She’s nearly four,” Kir said, voice wry. Anur eyed the toddler in Synia’s arms with mostly mock wariness, replying, “Once she hits four, it’s a whole new situation. Until then, we’ll stick with what works.”

“And what works is you hiding behind me?”

_:You do look rather ridiculous, Chosen.:_

“In my defense, this usually works a lot better,” he grumbled to all his audiences, Synia and Kir not the only ones to share a laugh at that.

With the Midsummer rite planned since the vernal equinox, arranging for Rodri to have a couple weeks to visit his family beforehand had been easy enough. Firestarters were traveling all along that border, Kavrick adding a few days to his and Maltin’s planned route to escort Rodri home hadn’t been a particular burden. From what Kari had relayed, seeing Aulch welcome Rodri – welcome a _Firestarter_ – so readily had been heartening for them both.

Anur doubted Maltin would seek out his own family even with that though. Apparently he’d been taken when he was five and didn’t even remember what township or village he was taken from, they’d have to consult the old records for that. It was somewhat disheartening, to see so few take advantage of Solaris’ declaration that priests, initiates and acolytes could contact their families, but also understandable.

As Kir had told him once, no parent hoped for their child to become a _Firestarter_.

It was the one reality that kept him from digging into records of Kir’s claiming, trying to find the Dinesh clan on his own and dragging Kir along with him. As much as he wanted the Dinesh’s to be proud of Kir, to know that he’d seen evil for what it was and fought to fix it, to hear those stories of the Oathbreaker, of the Comb fire, and be _honored_ that he was a part of their family – he knew that if it went the other way, if Kir’s family looked at his robes with horror and disgust, that Kir would be heartbroken, but unsurprised.

But Sunlord, he wanted Kir’s grandmother to know he still made knotwork Sun in Glories the way she taught him.

Rodri’s farewell after a day spent recovering energy in a traveler’s chapel had turned into something of an event. Apparently the fact he’d been out of town for two days to deal with the border rite (a literal wall of fire – a short wall, not even knee-high, but a wall that extended across the _entire border_ for those few seconds – unbelievable) gave everyone an excuse to free up their schedules. It honestly felt like most of the town had turned out to see their initiate off. The fact that it gave Kir a chance to enjoy a town filled with people who _didn’t flinch_ , who viewed him as a hero, as someone to respect and trust, was a happy coincidence Anur didn’t mind taking full advantage of.

Synia Greves was a marvelous coconspirator in that – when they’d come to Aulch with Rodri’s first letter in hand she had been nearby and decided it was a good time to introduce Anira to her namesake. Anur’s over the top reaction – shoving Kir in front of him with a cry of “Sacrificial offering!” while he ran for the horses – had become local legend almost immediately.

Kir greeting the young Anira in his stead had seemed utterly ordinary in comparison. Anur was quite proud of his spur of the moment plan.

“Father Kir – we’d best escape now, I think I’ve finally managed goodbyes from everyone, but more might show up at any moment,” Rodri said, the way his sister was clinging to his hand belying that readiness, but neither of them were going to call him on it.

“Very well,” Kir agreed, swinging onto Riva while Anur remounted Aelius. Rodri’s father had his horse, passing his son the reins and giving the initiate one last hug before he mounted up, his mother wiping tears from her eyes even as she smiled.

“I’ll keep writing,” Rodri promised, Lira glowering up at him and saying, “You’d better! Or I’ll get to Sunhame and tell _everyone_ about that time with the squirrel and the fish – “

“I’ll write I’ll write!” Rodri laughed, “No need for blackmail!”

“Do you think we can get that story by holding his letters hostage?” Anur asked, grinning at Rodri’s appalled look and outright laughing when Lira smiled slyly, the girl saying, “I could be persuaded.”

“No, Anur,” Kir said sternly, Rodri’s grateful expression turning straight to outraged when Kir continued, “We can just exchange stories. I seem to recall an incident with a water pump that would be worth something.”

“I hate all of you,” Rodri grumbled over their laughter as they rode out with a last wave over their shoulders, words belied by the smile on his face.

“I’m sure you’ll find stories to exchange about us eventually,” Kir chided, “Just tell that catacombs story – that would be a good one.”

“Father, half of your stories need enough of a background explanation they’re not funny anymore,” Rodri pointed out, “I tried explaining the catacombs bit, but mother just ended up furious at the idea of you thinking I should know how to live out of tombs and tunnels for a few months at a time – the acolytes thinking we were ghosts did get some laughs though.”

“It’s valuable knowledge,” Kir said defensively, Anur sighing as he pointed out, “The fact that you needed to use it is the infuriating bit Kir. Not the fact that you shared that knowledge with Rodri.”

“Besides, half the fun is in telling embarassing stories to family members,” Anur continued blithely, “So Rodri telling them stories about us wouldn’t be the same. Also, I never do anything that could cause as much embarrassment as the water pump thing. Or something involving a squirrel and a fish.”

He manfully ignored the chorus of scoffs he got at that declaration, and patted himself on the back for managing to dodge the topic of exchanging embarassing stories with Kir’s own family someday.

He was working on it.

Conversation remained light and silences remained comfortable for the rest of the day, and when they’d settled in another traveler’s chapel a mark or so before sunset Anur was just looking forward to a restful night’s sleep where he _wasn’t_ going to worry over Kir’s near coma. Finding him passed out on a pew and entirely unresponsive hadn’t been reassuring, and the fact that he hadn’t woken up until the next morning had nearly set him pacing. It was only Kari’s reassurances that he was fine, that the rite had simply taken more out of him, being the Incendiary, that kept him from doing something stupidly drastic.

As it was, both Rodri and Kir were still recovering, both of them near asleep on their feet after an abbreviated Sun Descending service. Anur stayed up a mark or so more, enjoying Aelius’ company and tossing ideas back and forth about how to get Kir in touch with his family, before stretching out next to Kir and letting sleep take him.

 _Tar-soaked wood was piled at his-their feet, crowd of faces he’d never seen (backs he couldn’t see past) filled his vision and a voice he didn’t recognize (knew as a mentor, as a monster) decried him-them for sins, for being a demon-devil-wretched-heathen the screams were so_ loud

Anur jerked awake with a gasp, reaching for Aelius mentally and the Companion immediately responding with a sleepy, _:You’re safe, in a traveler’s chapel with Kir and Rodri, no threats nearby. You’re safe.:_

 _:Thanks Aelius,:_ he murmured, the Companion just mumbling agreeably before sinking back into sleep. The two of them had gone through this routine too often for any true alarm to be worth the effort.

Staring up at the wooden ceiling, Anur waited for his heartbeat to settle and listened for Rodri and Kir’s breathing, wondering at the changes in the nightmare. It hadn’t matched the usual Sunbeam Brook memories-gone-wrong, and there had been some sort of double-perspective that made things even stranger –

Kir’s breathing wasn’t right.

 _:Kir!:_ he called, immediately reaching over to grab his brother’s shoulder, cursing himself for not realizing Kir’s frozen posture wasn’t just him sleeping like the dead, was him tense and near shaking –

_:getoutofmyheadstopitstopitstopit - :_

The frantic mental babble cut off and Kir’s eyes snapped open, gaze locking with Anur’s and utterly blank for the few moments it took him to realize where and when he was. The moment he recognized him Kir collapsed in on himself, a hand reaching up to cover his eyes and he murmured, _:Sorry for waking you, Anur.:_

 _:Stars Kir, don’t_ apologize _! I’m glad I was able to get you out of that, I think some of it bled over to me anyway. Are you all right?:_

_:I’m – I’m fine. I haven’t had that one in – in a while it’ll take a bit to – to let things settle again.:_

Anur grimaced, the way Kir was stumbling over his own thoughts was a bad sign. He hadn’t seen him this shaken from a nightmare in a long time, not since the Cat of Fire incident and his own stupid questions about why Kir hated mindspeech so much. He’d never brought the topic up again, even if he fairly burned with curiosity some days.

_:What triggered it? Anything?:_

_:Rodri’s send off,:_ Kir replied immediately, _:Is that what it’s like?:_

 _:…you’re going to have to give me more than that Kir – is that what_ what _is like?:_

_:When Heralds are Chosen – is that what it’s like? For them leaving?:_

Propping himself up on his elbow so he could see Kir’s face, he clarified, _:The atmosphere, you mean? The waving send-off?:_

 _:They were laughing,:_ Kir said, wonder and awe and a burning, throat-catching grief echoing in his mind. _:They were happy – content and_ proud _Sunlord is that what we once were? How could we have ever let that disappear, have seen that change and not_ known _that something was wrong?:_

He buried his face in his brother’s shoulder, inhaling through his own bone-searing _fury_. Havens, every time, _every time_ , he thought he had a handle on things, had an idea of how things were changing, of how these changes would catch people by surprise – he would come across some new bit of wonder, some new startled second-glance, and be reminded of how utterly _horrid_ things had been for Karse. How wretched the priesthood that had actually been, the priesthood that, by some miracle, produced Solaris, produced _Kir_.

Free will, it all came down to free will, he knew that, but damn it all that didn’t mean he was any less furious at the idea of Kir living under the old system for so long.

 _:I don’t know,:_ he finally managed to say, _:I have no idea, Kir. But not all Heralds are seen off that way. Even in Valdemar, there are groups that mistrust Heralds, that don’t see being Chosen as being an honor, as being something to celebrate. The Queen’s Own – Talia, I’ve told you about her a bit – she was disowned for it.:_

 _:Really?:_ Kir was clearly startled by that – startled enough to be distracted out of his own grieved wonder at least, and Anur would take whatever bit of comfort he could grab for his brother. _:I could see – I could see someone not wanting to leave responsibilities at home, at someone begrudging the loss of a child, or even the loss of labor, but – disowned?:_

_:Holderkin.:_

_:Well you can’t count_ them _as reasonable people -:_

 _:She’s not the only one,:_ Anur interrupted, _:None I know personally, but there_ are _people who’ve fallen out with their families over it – either they won’t use the status of Herald the way the family wants, they’re being taken for service to the Crown ruins whatever plans they had – even just fear. Heralds don’t live long, Kir. Not many retire. It’s a rare parent who honestly_ wants _that life for their child.:_

_:But that’s not the usual.:_

_:No, it’s not the usual. The usual is – proud, a celebration, a send-off with waves and tears and orders to write. Mine was that way.:_

_:Someday we’ll have that back,:_ Kir vowed, Anur tightening his half-embrace and debating questioning Kir’s own send-off. If Rodri’s farewells had triggered a nightmare, it would make sense for that nightmare to be about his own departure for the priesthood – but Anur didn’t quite dare ask.

Kir answered most questions freely, shared knowledge and stories with a weary sort of horror as he watched Anur’s reactions. It meant that Anur didn’t want to push – both because Kir answered so very many of his questions, and because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It was Kir’s past, his brother’s _life_ , of course he wanted to know, but at the same time –

If Anur was horrified by what Kir gave freely, how much worse would the stories he avoided sharing be?

 _:Someday you will,:_ he agreed, hating himself a little for being a coward, but also wanting to be able to sleep tonight. _:You going to be able to sleep?:_

_:I’ll lie awake for a bit, but I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep Anur.:_

_:I’m not the one who helped ward an entire border,:_ he grumbled, but let himself settle back into sleep. If Kir was going to stay up half the night brooding, he’d need to be doubly alert tomorrow to take care of him and Rodri both. Best catch sleep while he can.

***===***pagebreak***===***

“Seemed the purification worked exactly as planned,” Jaina reported cheerfully over tea, having ridden along the border from Ruvan to the Morningrays before turning towards Sunhame. “Tristan had just finished a check on areas that had been at risk before and there had been no change for the worse, and in some cases a change for the better. They’re going to continue checking on things every few weeks, the fatlands are too central to feeding the country to leave things to chance, but so far it’s looking promising.”

“That’s excellent news,” Kir shared a smile with her before looking over the map they’d been looking over, adding the details Jaina had run across in graphite. Anur reached over and tapped Peaks’ Town, avoiding smudging the old rune for tainted grounds as he said, “Overheard Colbern and Seras bickering about something, sounds like Peaks’ Town is on track to be fully cleansed by this Midwinter – no word on if someone is planning on reopening the mines, but I’d bet within a year they’ll be running again. They had good ore and the horror stories won’t hold forever.”

“I’m honestly surprised no one’s tried yet,” Kir admitted, “Though it’s likely that if they had, the near cadre of priests that have taken up residence there would have scared them off.”

“It’s a job no one can deny must be done, and is the Sunlord’s will in truth,” Jaina shrugged, “As unfortunate as the source is, more jobs like that would be useful. Things are settling, true, even better now that we’ve passed Midsummer with no disasters on the most holy of days, but more jobs that no one could dispute the rightness of would be useful.”

“I’m sure we can come up with something,” Anur said encouragingly, looking between the two of them. “Redesigning that ward took some resources, got people thinking, that was good – what about other wards? Are there any other areas that could stand some reinforcement on that front? Even an overhaul? Etrius and Seras have been finding all sorts of hidden things in the Archives with the other scholars, maybe there are more caches like that to rustle up?”

“There are some relics that could probably be disposed of now, no longer needed as some last resort,” Jaina said thoughtfully, tapping her mug with a nail, “Could be hard to argue, at this point they’re legacy pieces.”

“Some corpses we could stop venerating and chopping relic bones off of, that would be nice,” Kir said dryly, both Anur and Jaina snorting at that.

“I’ll think on it,” Jaina allowed, “You’re right, Anur, there must be some other jobs to be done. It’s just a matter of remembering them. Other than that, nothing to report, so I’m off – I’ll see you at the Descending service?”

“As usual,” Kir agreed, the other First Order Firestarter giving them both one last smile before departing, mug in hand.

“She seems much happier,” Anur said quietly, “Those first visits I wasn’t sure she’d stick around.”

“She thought Solaris had sent me to kill her,” Kir replied, tone sour, “And she was more angry that Solaris had asked _me_ to do the job than the idea of being ordered executed. No, she’s in a much better place now. I think this warding job helped. Having Ancar around to provide an enemy we’re truly meant to fight is keeping them together long enough to find their feet again, about the only thing that _witach_ is good for.”

Anur couldn’t quite suppress the wince at that revelation. He’d undoubtedly known Jaina hadn’t been in a good place when Kir and he had first arrived in Sunhame. But to find that she’d expected to be executed and only found offense in the idea that Kir had been asked to do it was something else entirely.

“Ah, Eldest, you’re still here. Do you have a moment?” Seras asked, walking into the kitchen with Colbern and a scholar-priest Kir recognized in passing from meetings with Solaris but couldn’t recall the name of.

“Certainly,” Kir said, waving the three older men to seats, “I recognize you from meetings, but I’m afraid I can’t recall your name.”

“Ulrich, black-robe scholar now, former summoner,” the man introduced himself with a genial smile and both Seras and Colbern were relaxed around him. Kir had come to mostly trust the assessment of his Firestarters – necessary, to be honest. There wasn’t enough time for him to accurately assess every priest in Sunhame, nor did he have any real desire to.

“Well met. Kir Dinesh, and my Enforcer, Anur Bellamy,” Kir replied in kind, though the man probably at least knew of Kir, if he was truly acquaintances and allies with two Firestarters already.

“Well met, Incendiary, Light’s Shadow,” the older man nodded to them both, seemingly entirely sincere, and while Anur spluttered, Kir could feel the grin spreading across his face.

“What,” the Herald said flatly, Kir unashamedly _cackling,_ dodging his half-hearted elbow to the ribs and saying, “Not so hilarious when _you’re_ the one with absurd titles now, is it? _Advocatorus_.”

“No! That is _not_ a – you made that up!” Anur accused, Aelius wheezing with laughter in both their minds as he whirled on Ulrich, “You made that up.”

“I did not,” the priest said, looking rather bemused, gaze cutting between a now snickering Kir and Anur. Kir couldn’t blame him, he undoubtedly expected more composure from the Incendiary and his Shadow, but he’d been waiting for one of those titles to spring up for _moons_ and he couldn’t let it pass. “Nor did the Incendiary make up Advocatorus. It’s an older title, considered to formally call on your role as a dispenser of justice in your Firestarter’s name, but it is a title.”

“Just wait,” Kir said smugly, “Until you hear the _rest_ of them.”

“You’ve been _waiting_ for this!” Anur cried, looking between a smirking Seras and Kir, “You – you knew about these titles _months_ ago, didn’t you?”

“I am familiar with the archives,” Seras murmured slyly, “Recalling the placement of some more formal papers was simply a matter of encouragement.”

“I promised him that I’d let him read the records I’ve been keeping first if he’d look into them for me,” Kir said dryly, “Hardly a heavy bribe. And then I decided the only way the titles would get their full impact is if they were sprung on you. So for that _perfect_ delivery, Brother Ulrich, I believe I owe you a favor. Now, what is this matter you were needed to speak with us about?”

“Advocatorus, what does that even _mean_?” Anur grumbled, before near visibly setting the absurd title revelation by the wayside for the moment. Whatever it was had Colbern losing all traces of amusement and going tense again, Ulrich and Seras both grimly serious and Kir felt his own amusement fade away. For it to come up now, near six moons after Solaris’ Ascent – hopefully it wasn’t drastically urgent, but it may well have been something put off until a critical point, especially if they were waiting to see how Solaris’ reforms panned out.

“There have been questions regarding the reforms still to come,” Seras began cautiously, only for Colbern to interrupt him with a scoff and drop his sheathed axe on the table, staring at the two of them and saying, “I’m a necromancer.”

 _:Should I know what that word means?:_ Anur’s question cut through Kir’s immediate reaction of tense wariness like a knife, because he had a very good point hidden in that question.

 _:No,:_ he replied bluntly, entirely honest because hardly _anyone_ knew what being a necromancer truly meant. Even he had bare scraps of an idea and it was all from biased histories read with his own eyes – who knew how badly they had been misrepresented or simply misinterpreted?

 _:Well then, time to break the ice,:_ Anur sent back, switching to speaking aloud without a hitch, “So I don’t know what that word means – is it like the exorcist thing?”

Kir bit back his initial response – a resounding negative – but caught himself. He was reacting, reacting entirely to rumors and half-heard stories. If he thought about it, truly gave the question consideration, Anur’s immediate connection between the two seldom-spoken-of sects in the priesthood was not as wrong as it first seemed, “I suppose it could be counted as similar, yes.”

“I’m not as familiar with it as I am with the exorcist calling, I’ve never knowingly met one,” Kir continued, offering a half-shrug, “But from what I’ve understood – it’s not something you can truly choose to be, it’s a combination of mage-craft and a knack for a particular twist of healing magic, from what I remember.”

“Accurate,” Colbern allowed, clearly stunned but shoving through it, “It’s a manifestation of healing, but… twisted and merged with mage-craft. It’s rare – I won’t say unspeakably so, since there are three of us now, but it’s rare and manifests differently in each person. Some can simply speak to ghosts, can interact with them as though they were living – others – others go further. The problem is that, like any magic, if it’s not trained then it lashes out wildly – and the effects can be rather… distressing.”

“You do not need to justify your existence to me,” Kir said quietly, clasping his hands in front of him, “I know something of harnessing disaster.”

Colbern nodded slowly, some of his usual calculation reentering his eyes as he said, “I suppose you would, Eldest.”

“Now that the dramatics have concluded,” Seras snapped, Kir noting Anur hiding a grin behind his mug with no little amusement himself, “We had a concern that merited telling you that. First – it seems that necromancy is not going to be declared Anathema, is that accurate? Secondly, we will need assistance in recharging the wards on the catacomb systems this coming winter, as numbers have dropped.”

“Two of my brethren were declared Nameless this year,” Colbern’s grin was all teeth, “Leaving me the most senior of the necromancers in the priesthood. Seras has aided me with researching precedent, and Ulrich serves as something of a counterpart for the exorcists.”

“All four of us,” the other priest said dryly, Colbern retorting, “I only have three, Ulrich, and one of them refuses to do anything more than keep his abilities locked down.”

“The wards have to be recharged annually, fully reconstructed whenever an anchor is replaced, but we were able to shore them up enough this past equinox that they’ll last until Midwinter comes around again,” the exorcist elaborated, “It requires four anchors, and at the moment we are hoping that another exorcist will be available to hold the North, but if we can’t – Incendiaries have stood in before.”

“Ah,” Kir grimaced, “For the purification aspect, I suppose?”

“Quite,” Colbern’s smile was wry now, his hand resting on his axe, “I usually hold that post, with my dual-calling, but I’ll be required to anchor the west this year. With the purification rite we just conducted, I don’t doubt you’d be able to pull it off.”

Kir suppressed a sigh. It made sense, then, why they had put off mentioning this. If they’d only found out that the wards were weakening critically at the vernal equinox, the purification rite would have already been in the works with a date set for Midsummer. Waiting to see how that worked out only made sense, and kept people from splitting their attention needlessly.

“Well – is that all then? I appreciate the advance notice, I’ll have to refresh my memory as to ward anchoring rites,” Kir finally said, not looking forward to the next load of research he’d be conducting. It would be interesting, new texts usually were, but he had no true passion for warding.

“I can get you some useful texts, Eldest,” Seras offered, Colbern hesitating before continuing carefully, “You are certain that necromancy will not be declared Anathema?”

“The vast majority of the reforms have been announced already, if not fully implemented,” Kir assured him, “Necromancy is not one of the things left. It is extremely rare and necessary, if relatively easily corrupted. Even one initiate with that knack not having anyone to teach them control would be disastrous – it’s not an ability that can be ignored.”

“No, the dead cats following you around with their skin rotting of their bones are a little obvious,” Colbern agreed, Anur choking on his tea, spluttering, “What?”

“Raising revenants is one of the first indicators of a talent for necromancy as opposed to exorcism or soul-healing,” Ulrich supplied, a rueful smile on his face, “Communication with restless spirits or shades of memory fall under both categories. An examination with mage-sight can help, but the easiest way is still considered follow the hysterics.”

“I would suggest you work on that method,” Kir offered wryly, “But have no worries of being declared Anathema collectively, just keep an eye on those that remain. Getting lower than three would make training any incoming necromancers difficult.”

“I’m trying not to think on that too hard,” Colbern grumbled, but the man nodded and secured his axe to his back, rising to his feet. “My thanks Eldest, for your time and your counsel. When you are next in Sunhame we will have to see about adding necromancy to our plans for Hardorn.”

 _:No,:_ Anur said mentally, looking to Kir with wide eyes as the other three left, _:We are_ not _actually going to use necromancy against Hardornens – are we? It is raising the dead – oh sweet Sunlord they’re_ walkers _like Marcus terrified us all out of our minds with growing up! Mara thought you were one!:_

 _:Well the necromancers aren’t walkers,:_ Kir corrected, _:The corpses they direct are. And no, we won’t be using any of the dead as additional soldiers. It takes a lot of  work to control the things – either a time-consuming ritual or blood-magic, from what I recall. It’s a fine line to walk, and I’m honestly reassured by the idea that Colbern, a_ Firestarter _, is the one to lead them. I doubt that was what his suggestion actually was – death-magic allows for some particularly powerful and discerning ward arrays, I would guess he wants to see if we can add any of those to our protective net.:_

_:Convincing everyone that a border-long purification was even feasible was difficult enough – now he wants us to convince everyone to set up a ward based on death-magic?:_

_:With the volume of death happening on the border in the north, it would be fueled easily enough,:_ Aelius commented doubtfully, _:But – begging your pardon Kir, but I don’t see how this is any different from blood-magic.:_

 _:I second that,:_ Anur agreed, mental voice still hesitant.

For good reason, Kir thought, clamping down on his immediate surge of fury that anyone would _dare_ think a Firestarter would harbor one of _witach_ but unable to prevent his tea from boiling in its mug. Letting a breath out between his teeth, he inclined his head towards Anur and took a moment to thank the Sunlord that no one else could have had heard that question before replying, “It’s unavoidable, that is the difference. No one who practices blood-magic can _only_ practice blood-magic. They have some form of magecraft to begin with, and use blood-magic to give them greater power. Necromancy as a knack, as a talent – it simply _happens_. It is possible to work magic with the dead without that knack, but that is something considered extremely suspect – it verges to twisted soul-magic and blood-magic too easily.”

“So if someone _chose_ to be a necromancer, without that knack?” Anur asked, clearly rolling that idea around in his mind.

“They would be allowed, but very, very carefully watched,” Kir wrinkled his nose before continuing, “I don’t know why anyone would want to – much with exorcism, that was a very good comparison to make – it’s not truly a venue of _power_. The last time a publically known necromancer held any true political sway was back during that Demonsbane story you told me. That had more to do with the man being a powerful summoner and charismatic to the extreme than it did his necromancy, though.”

“Huh,” Anur said, sitting back a bit as he considered that for a few moments. Probably thinking of the Demonsbane story, if Kir had to guess.

“I thought that guy was Hardornen,” his brother commented, proving Kir right. Kir thought back to the song he’d heard once and raised an eyebrow, because Anur was right. Karse wasn’t mentioned until the end, as the source of demons, even if the lord that had harnessed them was supposedly Hardornen. How vaguely prophetic.

 _:It’s your history,:_ Kir retorted, taking a sip of his tea, _:The way I interpreted it, the villain was a summoner priest – but we can always check the archives.:_

_:Could be interesting – but suspicious?:_

_:Not if we word the request right – I’m going to be looking into necromancer’s responsibilities in the district, hunting down that warding rite. Stumbling into some historical information would only be expected,:_ Kir pointed out, switching to speaking aloud and changing the subject entirely.

“Spar after the tea?”

“Thought you’d never ask!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incidentally, the Demonsbane song (consulted the books) really does only mention Karse in the last stanza with the implications being throughout that the Lord wielding demons and persecuting people was Hardornen? Or they were in Hardorn? The peasants were Hardornen, that's for sure. Very confusing.
> 
> Bardic license strikes again! That's my story, and I'm sticking to it until I come up with something more compelling.


	22. Retracing Haunts

“The catacombs? Really, brother?” Solaris’ voice echoed slightly as she stared down the shaft of a well that had apparently never actually been a well. “I haven’t even made any announcements for you to avoid.”

“Investigating something,” Kir called back up, “We’ll meet you by the garden entrance!”

“I look forward to it,” Solaris replied, tone amused. Anur wasn’t sure if they should take offense at that, or at least mock-offense. Not every story they told ended up in some amusing scenario, just most of them. Especially the ones they told to Solaris.

He made it a point of pride to bring up one amusing story per meeting. Their Son of Sun was too serious by half some days, and her other advisors weren’t doing much to alleviate it. It was better now, with most of the reforms announced and her rule so far successful and spanning two High Holy Days, but still not ideal.

Judging by her widening smile when they emerged from the garden entrance to the catacombs – one of the more maintained ones, since it was so visible – he had a head start on his usual goal of one laugh per meeting. “Is that a _miniature_ double-headed axe?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, “What on earth was that doing down there?”

“I don’t know, but it wasn’t attached to any of the important graves and Kir checked it for magic – entirely unenchanted. I think I’ll give it to Mara, once Axeli checks it for soundness,” Anur mused, the small battle axe – shaft only as barely as long as his forearm, blades a bare handspan wide edge-to-edge, it truly was miniature – resting on his shoulder.

Solaris laughed outright at Kir’s appalled look and Anur checked that off mentally, Aelius sighing in his mind, saying fondly, _:Really Chosen?:_

“Mara is _seven_ ,” Kir said slowly, “ _Seven_. In what world do you live, that a battle-axe is appropriate for a _seven_ year old?”

“She’ll grow into it!” Anur protested, “Besides, it’s adorable and good for threatening people! Just like Mara!”

Kir stared at him flatly and Anur just smiled in return. He’d initially said it as a joke, but now that he thought about it he didn’t know who _else_ he’d give a miniature battle-axe too. Mara was the only person who might prefer or need a weapon this size at some point in her life. Besides, it was an axe! Conceivably, she could use it to chop wood at the very least.

“I wash my hands of this. When your sister finds out about this gift, I will say honestly that I told you it was a bad idea,” Kir said finally, turning back to Solaris, “Apologies for being late for our meeting, Sister.”

“You’re not, quite. I just heard reports of ghosts in the catacombs again and Kari informed me it was probably you before I called for Ulrich,” Solaris assured him, “Walk the gardens with me?”

“Of course, Sister,” Kir murmured, falling into step on her right with Anur strolling slightly behind and between them. Conceivably, he could defend both of them from this position. In reality, he’d go for Kir, every time. Hansa would have Solaris as his priority, after all.

“Two companies of mercenaries – mixed foot and cavalry – have agreed to the terms,” Solaris informed them, “We’re waiting to hear back from the other two, but they’re probably waiting to see how we treat the first ones. It will take them until autumn to arrive – I could use your help getting the generals to come to some sort of agreement as to which two regions we need to make a priority.”

“We can manage that – the last of the critical reassignments for officers went out some moons ago and we need to review how that worked out, make sure there won’t be more changes necessary. I can bring it up then – and we won’t let them leave until they come to some agreement,” Kir said, tone distinctly dry at the end. “Hunger will motivate them to come to a decision, if nothing else. Pirates are worrisome and have been getting bolder, and the Oakrichs have had problems with mountain raiders as well as the usual hill bandits from what I recall. They’re also close enough to Hardorn that moving them there will be a matter of a week, should it come to that before the other companies arrive.”

“Get a majority to agree with you and consider it done,” Solaris said tiredly, “I truly want these negotiations to be over. Its one thing to know atrocities were committed and it’s entirely another to handwrite apologies to the mere handful of survivors. Seras has been Vkandis-sent with that, at least then I can provide some sort of intentional closure. He has ceased that policing though?”

“Self-enforced halt,” Anur provided, “Slipped a little too far some years ago and hasn’t trusted his own judgement since.”

“He knows enough to say that and _stop_ ,” Solaris sighed, “So very few do.”

“What languages should we start hunting for?” Kir changed the subject after a few moments silence, “Trade tongue, of course, but most of us speak that, any others?”

“Ruvanese has been the language of correspondence for both, Jkathan and Sarjan for the other two,” Solaris grimaced, “I searched for some to help me with that but everyone has written knowledge, little speak the languages. At least in Sunhame.”

“Send out a call,” Anur suggested, “Notify everyone that mercenaries will be coming and ask for volunteers to be interpreters. Might be best to _not_ only have priests, for that matter, maybe priest and civilian teams? Since the priesthood is really the source of those atrocities you’ve been apologizing for.”

“Good suggestion,” Kir seconded, “Merchants are more likely to have a working understanding of those languages anyway, or guardsmen or farmers near the border even. Offer comparable pay to the Sunsguard and we’ll get second sons and even some daughters applying for the chance – for those that don’t need the pay, offer a cut on their tithe offering for the year.”

“Much more of an incentive to merchants, and easier to arrange than actual pay on our end,” Solaris murmured, clearly making a mental note to throw that idea at someone else to chase before changing the topic, “The ward along the Hardornen border is holding? No backlash from it?”

“Haven’t had a chance to approach the northern comrades and see if there were any witnesses,” Kir replied, “But other than that loose end, everything seems to be going well. Tristan and Henrik have reported no renewed taint near the fatlands, and we were going to check the Morningrays to dead-zone stretch on our return to the 62nd since Jaina skipped that swath of border.”

“It also gives you an excuse to leave a few days early,” Solaris pointed out dryly, “Is Sunhame still so horrifying to you?”

“I don’t care for cities – for _crowds_ , Solaris. No matter what changes about Sunhame, it will always be that,” Kir reminded her, “I’m afraid nothing you can do will make Sunhame any more appealing to either of us.”

“I don’t know, the next big one might make things worse for a bit,” Anur pointed out, Kir grimacing at the reminder of the _other_ big revolutionary concept they were going to be in the middle of. Solaris hummed in agreement, stopping to examine a grove of fruit trees.

“We’ll need to start preparing for that – but not soon. Let’s get past Midwinter first. That will give us time to see how things are settling and seriously consider the matter,” Solaris suggested, starting to walk the garden paths again.

“We’ll bring our dictionary,” Anur said, “Though I have to wonder if any of those caches of warded and hidden away books the archivists keep stumbling across have anything along those lines.”

“Have to be truly ancient in that case,” Solaris mused, “But not unfeasible. Kir, you’re more familiar with the archives than I, even now.”

“Not to the extent of hidden caches, from what Ulrich and Seras have said, most of them are little whispers passed down from mentor to student, of hidden books and secret knowledge, either hoarded for power or hoarded to save them from a ruler’s whim,” Kir shook his head, “There might be something in the Hall’s records – Seras hasn’t had time to thoroughly examine those walls just yet. We’ll check on it before we leave or at least set Etrius on it.”

“The historian-acolyte?” Solaris asked, a pleased smile on her face, “He must be almost ready to be ordained.”

“Nearly – I think Seras and he are putting it off until his arms skills are sufficient. He’s also still a little too jumpy around sudden flames for me to want him pursuing the trials just yet. A year at the most, though. He’ll be thrilled to have full access to the archives,” Kir said, tone turning wry and Anur chuckled.

“I don’t think he’ll sleep the first month after he’s ordained, trying to read everything he couldn’t get access to just yet,” Anur said, Solaris sharing the laugh. She’d never formally met Etrius or Rodri, and Maltin she’d only had that brief passing moment when he was switching quarters, but asked after all of them frequently. It was only a matter of time before she met Rodri at the least, Anur was certain. With Kir and he in Sunhame so seldom, Rodri hardly let them out of his sight for the weeks they were around.

But she liked to hear about their Order’s students – about their Order’s _future_ , and he couldn’t blame her. These were the people she was going to have to trust her legacy to, when the Sunlord called her home, and hearing stories about them, getting to know them even by proxy, was valuable. Also, given the three they were talking about, more than passingly entertaining.

“There really aren’t many texts he _doesn’t_ have access to right now, at least within the Hall,” Kir shook his head, “The majority of the restrictions based on ordination are for the relic and ritual rooms and it doesn’t sound like he has much interest in that. It won’t take him a month to get through the books he’ll only then be able to access. As it is, I’m planning on going through and removing the restrictions on some.”

“Why?” Solaris asked, Anur waiting for the answer just as curiously. This was the first he’d heard about it – hells this was the first time he’d gotten confirmation that there really _were_ things that only ordained priests could access within the Hall, and he half-wondered if he counted.

“The only reason they were hidden away for ordained priests alone was because they referred to priests using witch-powers – not calling them as such, they were ‘priestly attributes’ or ‘signs of the faith’, but they were pretty clearly not magecraft,” Kir explained, “Some others had political disagreements with the Son of Sun at the time and were probably hidden away to keep students from thinking it was acceptable to question authority, and others were locked up because the knowledge was considered too dangerous – necromancy and the like – those are the only ones I might leave locked to acolytes and initiates,” he finished.

“So how do you know about them?” Anur asked, “I thought you were ordained and pretty much immediately sent out to the 62nd.”

“Fairly immediately, but I was ordained in the winter right before the Conclave, immediately upon passing my trial,” Kir replied, a wry smile on his face, “So I didn’t leave until after the snows had cleared, and had to keep my head down in the Hall besides. I didn’t have much to do _besides_ find all the information that was now available to me. Practicing my flames was too suspect for me to devote all time to them.”

“The trials,” Solaris mused aloud, cutting Kir a glance before asking archly, “I don’t suppose I’m allowed to know what these trials consist of?”

“You don’t?” Kir asked, nonplussed. The three of them stopped in the middle of the path and Solaris turned to Kir fully, raising an eyebrow as she said, “No. I don’t. I was under the impression they were some great secret to add to the mystique of the Order, that your people had to undergo further trials to advance, rather than be promoted by your superiors as in other subsets of the priesthood.”

“Promotion by superiors wouldn’t work, there have been at least three times in history where there has been a month or two with no First Order Firestarter available – the trials are an independent method, so no matter how small our numbers become, promotions and advancements can still occur,” Kir denied, shaking his head and looking bemused, “I had no idea they were considered such a great mystery – they’re common knowledge to Firestarters. There aren’t many _details_ spread around, but the basic gist is. Has to be – they require preparation.”

“So then why isn’t it common knowledge?” Anur jumped in, “In the priesthood as a whole, I mean.”

“The First Order trial is traditionally – it is considered too difficult to explain in full,” Kir spread his hands helplessly, “I believe also that it was kept under wraps to allow our fellows to underestimate us, or at least to leave us be. That might be the origin of all of it – the secrecy at least – an effort to keep our Order separate from the rest of the priesthood. With us required to police the priesthood rigorously – it would be helpful, to have something further setting us apart.”

“Forcing additional trials also allows people to think that the trials have something to do with your worthiness to judge others in the Sunlord’s name, as your original calling detailed,” Solaris mused, letting her eyes drift around the empty garden. Undoubtedly it had been cleared so she could stroll the paths undisturbed, or at least chat with them undisturbed. One day people would think nothing of her walking among them in the District, Anur was sure that was her eventual goal, but that day was a long way off.

“There’s nothing in particular to that effect,” Kir shrugged, “Mostly it’s all about control of fire, whatever method you choose. There are some nice rites and rituals to go along with them, of course, but the primary testing is in control and manipulation of flames, upping in difficulty and length as you advance. The Third Order test – it is the most ritualized, and the only one that allows for easy witnessing. It is traditional for Firestarter acolytes to invite their non-Firestarter colleagues to that, though I don’t know that the tradition has been used in decades, if not centuries.”

“Well then, I’ll have to get an invitation from Etrius,” Solaris decided, taking a seat on a nearby bench and waving them to join her. “Though I would have you tell me the trial you passed, Kir. You went straight to the First Order trial? Did you even perform the other two?”

“No, I never did – well, I did, myself, just to see that I could. But I never performed them in front of witnesses or other Firestarters as some official trial proceedings,” Kir explained, settling beside her while Anur took a bench across from them, stretching his legs out to rest near Kir’s, miniature axe lying beside him.

“There’s a room in the sublevels of the Hall that serves as a repository,” Kir said after a few moments to gather his thoughts, Hansa settling at Solaris’ feet, blue eyes also locked on Kir. Apparently the Cat didn’t know about this either, and that made Anur feel slightly better about the whole unintentional secrecy, strangely enough.

“For – for centuries, for as long as the Hall has stood, that room has been a central basis for the wards and enchantments embedded into the very foundation. Every few years, it’s traditional for the First Order Firestarters, or the Incendiary alone, to renew those protections. Jaina did that last year so we’re not due for a while,” he said as an aside to Anur, which was good, because Anur was going to need some more time to brace himself for whatever that rite ended up being.

“Essentially it stores fire,” Kir spread his hands helplessly, “Fire in all its forms and shapes – fire crafted by every Incendiary, every Firestarter, to pass through those doors, to succeed or to die. You dedicate yourself to the Sunlord and to the work of Ari during a Descending service, walk into that room and must survive to the dawn. It is – different, for every survivor. Some walk out lightly singed and beaming, some limp out scarred and snarled, some – some are nothing but ash burnt to vapor. Most are nothing but ash burnt to vapor. The passing rate is very low. Even though people need to be approved, in these past centuries it became a way to – eliminate those who were problematic. You’d encourage them to go for First Order Firestarter, persuade the elders to approve their petition and they’d die in flame, and in turn make the test that much more powerful for the ones to follow.”

“You were expected to die,” Solaris said, voice tight with a fury Anur knew in his bones, because it seared through him every time he thought about this test Kir had been thrown to.

“By most, yes,” Kir agreed, “Not by Verius. Not by Jaina. But the others? Perhaps Seras took Verius at his word when he suggested I go straight for those trials, assured them that I was capable. But most of the Order was under the impression that I had so sorely insulted Phyrrus that I could not remain part of the Order if it was to remain secure, and that this was a way to dispose of me in a way that didn’t require an explanation outside of the Order. Our trials are known to be fatal.”

“But then you walked out,” Anur said fiercely, a grin on his face as he imagined the _faces_ when those bastards had realized that their political problem, their unfortunately wasted prodigy, had _lived_ , and walked out _beaming_.

Because Kir loved fire. To spend a whole night with nothing but flame, no observation, no pressures, no screams? To be surrounded by crackling red and orange and gold light that would kill him with no malice, with no thought, just because that’s what fire was?

Suns, Kir had sounded _wistful_ when he’d explained it that first time.

“But then I walked out,” Kir agreed, a fond smile on his face, undoubtedly having some idea as to what Anur was grinning about – he wasn’t shielding those mental images after all. “And all their ideas of conveniently sweeping me aside had to be reworked because now there was someone more solid than ash to get rid of. So I was exiled to the 62nd.”

“For which I’m forever grateful,” Anur said honestly, Solaris smiling and agreeing. Their eyes met when Kir looked away from them and Anur knew that in this, he and Her Most Holy were in perfect accord. Anyone who tried to kill Kir again was going to _wish_ they’d been tossed into the First Order trial by the time they were through with them.

***===***pagebreak***===***

The badlands were near impassible in the summer, but with a year-round oasis and some breezes from snow-capped peaks, the still unnamed oasis-town was not unbearable. The unofficial name of “Anika’s Oasis” would probably wait until she had either grown into her own legend more or until she had moved on entirely, if it was ever going to become permanent. It made for an excellent stopping point on their journey to the border, and not only for resupply.

“It’s decaying faster than anticipated,” Kir informed the young woman standing next to him, Anika Brersi raising an eyebrow as she tilted her wide-brimmed hat back, “It should be entirely cleared by Midwinter if things continue.”

“Father Loshern and I have been conducting cleansing services on alternating Solsdays,” she informed him, “Would that have accelerated things?”

“Certainly,” Kir agreed, “Not quite this much, I wouldn’t think – the taint was deep, but definitely a part of it. It is good to see. Heartening.”

“Your Order’s border wards might have contributed,” she offered, “We were all in the new temple but there were fresh scorch marks in the soil around the runes.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Kir replied, “We based that ward on this type of circle. Turning it into a line rather than a sealed loop was… challenging.”

“But worth it. Do you think Fredrick has stopped watching your Enforcer like he’s going to turn into a rampaging demon and rip his throat out?”

“Probably not.”

 _:Definitely not,:_ Aelius reported, laughing.

“What on earth happened between you all to leave such an impression?” she asked, a bemused smile on her face as they started walking back to the temple, where Anur had been left with a warily terrified Fredrick Loshern for company, answering every question Anur could think of regarding exorcists and wards on the catacombs.

“Fredrick has, apparently, had bad experiences with the Sunsguard. Anur and I met him when he had cornered some of our men and was threatening them with mage-lightning, accusing them of robbing food from the sick.”

“Oh no,” Anika muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“They were delivering food _to_ the sick and their caretakers, and were on their way to make their last delivery,” Kir continued dryly, “We happened upon the scene and Anur reacted… violently.”

“And you did not?” Anika scoffed, “Father, Jakyr has told me very thoroughly what you are capable of when provoked, as if I didn’t know already. I find it hard to believe Enforcer Bellamy was the only one in a towering rage.”

“Oh I was furious,” Kir agreed, offering the woman a sharp smile, “But flashing steel is much more noticeable than burning someone’s heart to ash in their chest. His standard role in our questioning only reinforced that wariness.”

By the satisfied gleam in her eye, Anika understood very well what he was implying he could do, and she was pleased to know it. Vkandis-bless she would have made a _magnificent_ Firestarter. Knowing she was well on her way to being a lay-exorcist would just have to do. Getting some flame-blessed steel in her hands would probably be a good next step – he’d have to check with Axeli about forge times and Jakyr for preferred weapons.

She wasn’t going to be formally ordained, after all. Some gift to mark her standing as a Sun-blessed soul would only be appropriate.

“Which is why you left him to ask all the questions you both have, knowing Fredrick will be more worried about a loose-cannon Enforcer sinking a knife in his ribs than in tailoring his answers to his audience,” Anika rolled her eyes, “Here I thought I would be able to convince him that you two are both sane and honored members of the Brotherhood of Vkandis – you want him to think you both half-mad.”

“I am a Firestarter of the First Order, half-mad is part of the job description,” Kir replied dryly, the young woman laughing aloud at the response.

This was the first time they had the chance to see the oasis town and speak with Anika Brersi since the initial cleansing and Kir was so very pleased with what they had found. Fredrick Loshern being sent out to monitor the cleansing and regain the people’s faith in the priesthood had been a stroke of brilliance on Solaris’ part, because no matter their personal history with the man, he had a truly holy calling and that undoubtedly showed. For that matter, their own personal history would only serve to show people that the priesthood was as plagued with internal strife and conflict as any other order, and that even though Solaris was in power and changing things, that very human part of the priesthood was not going to be lost.

Also, with Kir and Anur’s own reputation in the town, it was a chance for Loshern to reconsider their first impressions. That chance had been lost though, Anur found it too entertaining to keep the man guessing. For a man trained to be an impartial bringer of the crown’s justice he could hold quite the grudge.

Even more important than that though, was Anika Brersi herself. Somehow Kir had found himself to be the one to play a major role in restoring her faith in the priesthood on two separate occasions, and even then he had known that it was wavering on a knife’s edge. She had been terribly hurt, her trust abused, and he hadn’t known that a few examples of what the priesthood could and should be would be enough. But on seeing her now, speaking with her on the town’s recovery, her own training with Loshern, with Jakyr, he could see even more clearly the core of steel she had used to drag herself up again.

Working with her was an honor and a pleasure, and she was a woman that histories would sing about. He still thought it was a cursed shame she wasn’t a Firestarter, need for lay-heroes aside.

“Sister Jaina, she is the only other First Order Firestarter?” Anika asked, curiosity clear, “Fredrick mentioned he was friends with a Firestarter, Kavrick – he came through after the Midsummer rite to visit. Fredrick also mentioned he had met you and your Enforcer before but he never said much else about it.”

“She is, and from what I understood he and Kavrick were yearmates and managed to remain acquaintances and even friends despite Kavrick’s induction into the Order,” Kir shrugged, “Apparently my asking Fredrick to investigate what happened to my reports of blood-magic on the border got them back in touch. They seem good friends now.”

“Oh they’re quite close,” Anika agreed, lips twitching and Kir cut her a glance and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose at her amused expression.

“Fantastic. Exactly what I needed to hear,” Kir muttered, “At least that explains why they kept their acquaintance under wraps in the old regime. I get to deal with _romantic drama_ how… how wonderful.”

“Welcome to the same world as everyone else, Incendiary,” Anika said dryly, “Your Enforcer is the type to ride off with a grin and no false promises, it’s only fair that someone in your Order has something more committed for you to worry about.”

“If either of them die it’s going to be _terrible_ ,” Kir groaned.

“The fact that _death_ is your first concern rather than some other broken-heartedness speaks a lot to your Order’s choices,” Anika pointed out, tone growing concerned, “Is that so likely?”

“The Firestarting Order is going to have to serve as something of a first line of defense,” Kir said tiredly, “There are only eleven of us, Seras is truly _old_ at this point, no one aside from Colbern and Tristan has more than the most basic of arms-training, and I’m the only one to have slain any of _witach_ ’s brood _or_ a blood-mage. Aside from us and a few in the Sunsguard, no one in the priesthood is truly considering Hardorn a threat, and I fear it’s going to take an invasion to get them to see sense. And to turn it back – to turn it back, unless we are immensely fortunate, quite a few are going to die, and some of them will be mine.”

“Border people will be next,” Anika said quietly, staring north to Hardorn with a bleak expression. “Some of the men have started arms training again, Jakyr offers tips and sparring practice whenever he rides through, but it won’t be enough, will it?”

“No, if Hardorn’s forces make it this far and the guard can’t reach you in time – it won’t be enough,” Kir confirmed, “I am sorry.”

“You are given these burdens because the One God crafted your soul to bear them,” Anika quoted tiredly, voice dropping to a near whisper as she asked, “Is it terrible, to sometimes wish that my soul had been crafted with a little less care?”

“Not at all,” Kir murmured in response, bleak meditations that had haunted him his whole life – ever since he was snatched as a child, watching his hopes burn to ash – allowing him to speak honestly, “I have wished much the same, some days.”

They shared an easy silence as they walked up the steps to the temple, both taking some comfort in the fact that another of their faith had held similar doubts, had voiced similar wishes on their darker days, but had nonetheless continued on to bear those burdens they wanted to lay down.

Anika Brersi had no need to be a Firestarter. She was already magnificent.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Kir ducked under a knife thrown by no hand and lashed out with a curl of red-orange flame – the lowest temperature he could manage and keep in a cohesive shape. His knives screamed against Anur’s sword as the steel slid across, knowing his own face had the same near maniacal grin that was fixed on Anur’s. They sparred in Sunhame, of course they did, they had to set an example for the Firestarters. They even sparred _with_ the other Firestarters, though not at the same time – Kir wanted to remain on hand in case any flames went too close to Anur.

But none of that was quite the same.

Boots tugged around his feet and he barred his teeth, wrenching back as quickly as he could and circling before diving in again, knocking aside the arrows honing in on him. Anur without his Fetching was handicapped in the extreme, and while they’d gotten some members of the 62nd up to sparring with him while flying blades and diverted arrows – and, one memorable incident, a bucket of water – were weapons Kir was still the only one to truly hold his own.

Given, if either of them were truly trying to kill each other this wasn’t the way they’d go about it. But it kept both of them in practice and being honest, it was _fun_ in a way sparring without their gifts, actually fighting for their lives _with_ their gifts, never could be.

Greich had also worked it into his schedule for breaking in their new arrivals, and while they didn’t have many, there had been a few fresh faces this past transfer season and they couldn’t disappoint. Especially with Henri around to provide a sympathetic priestly ear. The fact that he’d begun requisitioning _prodka_ to pass to the men that approached him with a commiserating, “You’ll need this,” had only made Kir approve Solaris’ choice all the more. He fit in very well, and his apparent gift for archery had only sealed it.

“Time!” Sergeant Greich's voice cut through their clash and both immediately backed off. When they’d first started this they’d fight until someone yielded, but it had quickly become impractical – they knew each other too well. There was a very good reason they continued sparring with the men of the 62nd, given, minus their flames and fetching most of the time, but it was still valuable.

For one, Kir’s flames in truly close-quarters scrambles weren’t always feasible. Not if he didn’t want to risk burning his allies.

So they had compromised. Greich or one of the other witnesses would call time when they’d hit a mark or someone else needed the area they were monopolizing with hazards like flying swords and occasional bursts of flame, whichever came first. By the small crowd that had gathered, this was one of the latter scenarios.

“Apologies for monopolizing the ring,” Kir offered, but Nakel, leading sword drills today it seemed, simply scoffed.

“Watching you two spar is educationally terrifying,” the officer replied, “It’s good for them. My thanks, Sergeant.”

“Just as well,” Anur said blithely, sheathing his blades and idly waving his hand, the other weapons scattered in the ring rising at his bidding and heading for their places, “I was about to – ”

A high scream echoed in Kir’s mind and he locked his knees to keep himself from collapsing, a grim focus building up old shields to heights he’d left by the wayside since Anur and Aelius had come to his mind even as he lunged for a collapsing Anur. Catching the Herald by the shoulders, he steadied his brother and recognized the fury burning in brown eyes, a snarl twisting Anur’s features as he growled, “Lenora. Those _bastards_ have Lenora.”

“Father? Herald? What is it?” Greich interrupted, appearing next to them with a scowl, Nakel close behind.

“Herald Lenora has been captured by Ancar’s forces on the border, and is being dragged to the blood-mages controlling them,” Kir relayed, unsure exactly where that precise knowledge was coming from but feeling it burning in his mind nonetheless. “There are not enough Valdemaran forces in the area to risk a rescue.”

“And if we add near fifty blue uniforms and the two of you to that?” Nakel said sharply, “What then? Everyone here has a Valdemaran guard uniform roughly their size, Captain Ulrich arranged that swap long ago.”

“Then there’s a chance,” Kir said bluntly, “Not much of one. But a chance.”

“Sergeant, inform the Captain. Father, Herald – I’ll leave you to inform the Valdemarans as you see fit,” Nakel spun on his heel and started barking orders, men darting about at his command. Kir didn’t wait to see which orders were being carried out when and raced after Anur and the sergeant.

Lenora didn’t have time to waste.

***===***pagebreak***===***

The only time Harevis had run this fast was when they had raced for their eastern border the first time, obscure warnings and a dire foreboding driving them through all cares. Griffon couldn’t bring himself to exult in the speed as he had that first time, not anymore. Ancar had drained the joy out of so many parts of his life. First this speed, then his Gift – some days it seemed all he was good for was burning the lives and hopes out of doomed enemies or failing to defend his friends.

It was that sense of failure that spurred him on now, heading for Captain Naomi Mecal’s bandit hunting camp. Bandits waited for no wars, and hers was one of those few companies near the border whose main targets still were raiders and brigands rather than Hardornen farmer-soldiers. It was the only way he could see this working, because Lenora had been taken. She had gone scouting across the border – stupid, they had known it was stupid, but they were trying more desperate things every day with Ancar constantly flinging tiny little stupid worthless scouting parties against them and not even _caring_ because it hurt them. Every one of the soldiers Valdemar lost was a friend, a comrade, left family behind that would weep and despair, left another little chink in their morale. Every soldier Ancar lost was of less concern to that monster than a crumb swept off the table.

He had laughed, scoffed, when Dinesh had told him Ancar would never stop coming, would throw people at Valdemar until they drowned in blood, ignoring the pity in those grey eyes. What he would give to turn back the clock to that moment, to take that warning seriously and beg every scrap of knowledge on blood-magic, on human-shaped _monsters_ , that the priest held.

Soldiers set against Hardorn had been ordered to leave her, to count her lost, and while they ground their teeth and despaired at losing a Herald, all of them knew, _everyone knew_ that people sent after her were as good as dead, were signing their own doom, and would only give Ancar’s cursed blood-mages further power. Would die screaming with every ounce of power drained from them, if they were so unlucky as to be captured.

But those orders might not have made it to Mecal yet.

Those orders would never make it to Karse.

 _Maybe you exist,_ he thought desperately to a god he’d been raised to see as a leader of monsters, as an inspirer of terrors and burning flames, feeling the midsummer sun beating on his back, feeling the tightness and heat as his face started to burn, _Please exist. Please care. Please please please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. I am about as surprised as this chapter as all of you probably are. I mean, the first bit, reuniting with Anika - anticipated. Planned sort-of. But Lenora? *low whistle* man this story is surprising me every day. Excited to see this twist develop, because it promises to be PERFECT. So many things patched together with this.... muhahahaha.


	23. Ask No Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psst... Fmlyhntr - Happy Birthday! :D
> 
> This chapter flowed really well, figured why delay? Hope everyone enjoys! Hopefully the next time we'll get some of Lenora's POV, or at least Glenn...
> 
> References to rape, torture, and non-graphic descriptions of their aftermath.

Naomi heard the hooves before she heard her sentries’ shouts of alarm – they’d have to work on that, she didn’t care _how_ far the sound of chiming traveled. Grabbing her sword and darting out of her tent, she shielded her eyes against the glare and recognized the Herald immediately. Only one Herald had hair that shade of red.

“Herald Griffon!” she called, the Companion switching headings and skidding to a halt in front of her, flanks heaving. “What is it?” she asked immediately, waving her arm over her head to signal the men to start packing. Whatever it was that had this Herald grim with fury-lined despair would require moving out, and quickly.

“Herald Lenora has been captured by Ancar’s forces, but a rescue mission has been – “

“Ah! Say no more!” she interrupted, eyes narrowing as she sent her mind ranging over possibilities. No need to say that pursuit had been forbidden, that was standing orders for all forces on the border, ever since they’d received confirmation from Dinesh that Ancar’s mages gained power from death in their sphere of influence.

But those orders had never been explicitly given concerning the rescue of a _Herald_ , and conceivably, if they reported things just right, it would be considered too much work to write them up. At the very least, she could shield her men by not letting Griffon say those damning words aloud where they could hear.

All that became academic if they succeeded of course. The worst they could get with a living and breathing Herald pulled out of Hardornen hands would be a slap on the wrist, and while Herald Griffon didn’t know how lucky he was, her unit was in a unique position to do the most good.

“Herald Anur is visiting our Karsite allies,” she said shortly, “Harevis, can you reach Aelius from here or do we need to get closer? Also, are you capable of tracking Lenora past the border? Can you get us a heading? Companion Glenn, was he slain or is he captured as well?”

“Glenn’s trailing, not captured,” Griffon reported promptly, “Harevis is reaching – no contact. Have to get closer to the border, our range isn’t the best.”

“Right. Give us twenty to get packed up and moving. Keep calling for Aelius,” she ordered the Companion before turning on her heel and diving into the fray of a packing camp. Twenty minutes was being generous. She’d see if her unit could cut it down to twelve.

Within fifteen minutes everyone was mounted up and starting to move. A quarter of the men were continuing to the permanent barracks, leaving those unmanned was irresponsible in the extreme. The majority of those soldiers were recovering from injuries or otherwise less than fit for a hard-pressed run across hostile territory to save a Herald, but she’d sent some of her officers with them too, just in case.

Anders was with her. The man would never forgive her if she sent him away from this.

“It’s a half-day to the border of Karse, full day to the Hardorn-Karse junction,” she told Griffon, “ _Don’t_ enter Hardorn without us, Herald, but head for that junction and we’ll catch up. Keep calling for Aelius!”

Joss and his horse took the Herald’s place when the Companion bolted, the Healer’s face drawn in grim lines as he said, “The odds aren’t good, Naomi.”

“Fuck the odds!” she snarled back, hooves a too-slow drumbeat in her ears, “Ten years ago, if I’d been told that my best hope for saving a Herald from Hardorn was a Sunsguard unit with a Firestarter I’d have called you mad and busted a rib laughing, _and what are we hoping for now?_ You just be ready to stabilize the woman!”

By the time they reached the junction, Aelius had gotten word to Harevis and they plunged further east with the dawn, running right along the no-longer scorched line in the earth that separated Karse from Hardorn. Naomi was sure she was imagining it, but the air on the Hardornen side felt fouler in her lungs.

By noon, the mad hope she’d have laughed out of the room a decade ago had become reality.

“Anur!” Griffon cried, Harevis pivoting to trot beside a gleaming-white Aelius, the other horses not quite as graceful in the maneuver but performing it just the same. She left the Heralds and Dinesh to their discussion and cut around them to rein in beside Ulrich – wearing an extra uniform of Anders’, with her extra trappings of rank.

“Nice uniforms,” she said, the other captain snorting and replying dryly, “Karse can’t afford to provoke Ancar any further, not right now. Without these uniforms this rescue mission would be a much harder sell. How bad is it?”

“She’s still alive, from what Griffon’s relayed, her Companion is tracking the party and they only reached the blood-mages just before dawn today.”

“We heard that,” Ulrich said grimly, “Bellamy’s been monitoring her too. Cursed twisted bit of luck, but these seem to be the sort to wring every drop of power by torture, so it’s in their best interest to keep her alive.”

“Getting them to keep her alive when we come charging in raising hell is another matter all together,” she pointed out, letting her eyes skim the now well-mixed group of Karsite and Valdemaran soldiers. They’d run joint drills so each squad knew who their usual partners were, and that seemed to have paid off with this merging going so smoothly. “Language Valdemaran?”

“Have to match the uniforms,” Ulrich agreed, rising slightly in his stirrups to call, “Father Kir!”

The Sunpriest – the only one _not_ wearing some Valdemaran uniform, wearing instead his usual robes of office over Sunsguard black – peeled off from the Heraldic duo and his gelding cut through the herd with ease, coming in on Naomi’s other side, “Little under a half-day from the border at this pace, still on heading for an interception,” the priest reported, “We’ll get there just before sunset with some breaks. Aelius and Anur are talking Griffon down from charging in alone to get there faster. Glenn knows we’re coming, Lenora does not.”

“Can Glenn get us the layout of the camp and surrounding area? Tell us which area Lenora’s in?”

“…yes. He needs a few minutes to get into position.”

“Mindspeech is _so useful_ ,” Ulrich muttered, “May it come back into our population quickly.”

“You should see what we can pull off with Farsight and Fetching,” Naomi informed him with a grin, “Then you’d _really_ be drooling.”

With careful breaks they were able to make it to the blood-mage’s camp – actually a camp, rather than a taken over town, which made things much easier – just as the sun started to set. No one was willing to wait for whatever additional cover darkness might give them, so Kir and Anur headed out on foot to get closer to the blood-mages’ end of camp, Aelius waiting with the rest to signal the captains when they were in position. There could only be so much stealth when wearing uniforms that didn’t match and having a plan that amounted to charging in with fire and steel, so a distraction was rather necessary.

The distraction was set for the other end of the camp; distraction, in this case, being a small word for almost two units of well-trained men and women doing their level best to kill anything that moved while various wagons and tents that happened to catch Griffon’s eye burst into wild flames. It served its purpose very well. Hardly anyone managed to notice Kir and Anur as they raced through the camp on foot, much less call an alert. By the time they reached the tent Kir had pinpointed as the worst of the blood-magic rot, Lenora’s hoarse curses and screams were almost drowned out in the shouts and screams coming from the other end of the encampment.

Only one of the men gathered in front of the tent noticed them and he never got a chance to say a word – fire burst from his skin and he fell, comrades’ surprised shouts drowning in a roar of flame as the two of them darted into the tent itself.

“Lenora!” Anur cried, ignoring the fires erupting around him and lunging for her, knifing the Hardornen struggling to his feet in the eye and ripping him off her, Lenora’s teeth blood-stained as she grinned at him, “Bellamy?” she managed, “Bout damn time!” before her eyes rolled up in her head and she slumped, awareness fading.

“Shit shit no, Lenora stay here, come on,” he hissed, pulling out the knives pinning her hands to the ground, pressing a hand against her head and scrambling for her mental presence even as he tried to get an idea of how badly she was injured.

Her uniform was bloodied and in tatters, only enough fabric left to hint that they were once Whites. Bastards undoubtedly wanted to see proof she was a Herald every time they hurt her, and the wounds he could see were designed to heal slowly and scar. The blood coating her thighs was, to be honest, anticipated, but her feet – they’d been crushed, near every bone broken if the mangled shape was any indicator. Damn and blast.

 _:Lenora you hear me? Stay with us – we’re here, you’re out – Joss is here, a Healer, you’re going – you’re going to live, just_ keep listening _– Griff we’ve got her_ get here now! _:_

A flutter of black-edged crimson distracted him and he caught Kir’s robe, wrapping it around Lenora and lifting her too-cursed still form while Kir swore and tore through another mage with a roar of white-hot flame. He stepped over the smoking corpses in his way and walked into the dusk, pounding hooves and screams and roaring flames running together in the hazy light.

Pounding laced with chimes came up and Harevis skidded to a halt by them, four mounted guardsmen close on his heels and circling them immediately, focus outward. Harevis went down on his forelegs so Anur could pass Lenora into Griff’s arms, the Companion levering himself up slowly. “Get her to Joss,” Anur said grimly, hand on Griff’s knee, “And get out of Hardorn. Go!” he barked the last, four horses and one Companion wheeling and plunging off again, Harevis careful to stay between the guards now that he had two Heralds to take care of.

Anur would trust that they’d get Lenora to Joss and his contingent of Valdemaran and Karsite guards. He’d trust that they’d keep going, keep running, until she was safe and away from these _witach_ scum.

His place was here, with Kir.

Killing witches.

***===***pagebreak***===***

 _Dawn, at last_ , Kir thought, turning his face to the sunlight and taking a moment to just breathe. After Griffon had signaled the retreat – a specially treated arrow blazing green fire across the sky – the Valdemaran and Karsite soldiers had scattered, each squad responsible for keeping track of their people as they fled for Karse. Kir and Anur had trailed behind, ensuring that any pursuit was burnt to ash. There had been quite a bit of pursuit to burn; even though they’d managed to kill most of the ranking officers and all the blood-mages, the thralls hadn’t been freed and followed their last commands. Threads of blood-magic ran thick in this country, thick and pulsing with rot, and Kir had barely been able to ensure there weren’t any blood-mages left in the camp, much less distinguish where the holder if their chains was.

The only reason Lumira and Laskaris had been able to free the soldiers moons ago had been their true expertise with coercion spells and the inexpert control exerted by the Nameless Ones they’d faced. He had no such benefits, and they had no way to get any thralls they freed across the border and supported anyway.

It did not make the screams any easier to hear.

 _:Lenora’s made it to barracks, Joss and Griffon are there too,:_ Aelius reported, tension running out of Anur and he could hear him murmuring thankful prayers. _:Long recovery ahead of her, but she’s alive, and Glenn says she’ll make it.:_

 _:Thank the Sunlord,:_ Kir murmured back, spreading his awareness of flames ahead of him. For Lenora’s party to have made it to barracks by now, they had to be at least near the border.

Another benefit of their Midsummer wards – Karse’s border was a beacon to his senses, blazing against Hardorn’s taint. The majority of their units were probably already across the border, they had been careful to keep their pace slow and avoid passing anyone. Between the three of them they’d been able to check for anyone falling behind or getting turned around in the night – the moon was quartered and had only risen just after midnight, so the first few marks of flight had been the most worrisome.

His suspicions were confirmed when they neared the border – horses and men half-between Valdemaran and Karsite uniforms were milling about a bare _mel_ from the ward-line, undoubtedly letting their mounts get some rest before heading for the 62nd. When the soldiers caught sight of them a hush fell, Naomi emerging from the crowd with Ulrich on her heels, arm in a sling. “Lenora?” she asked, looking between the two of them, and neither of them bothered to suppress their relieved smiles as they dismounted, Anur saying, “She’s at the 62nd, Glenn says she’s got a long recovery ahead of her, but she’s going to make it.”

Grins grew across the captains’ faces, whoops and cheers echoing in still morning air as two nations’ soldiers congratulated each other on a successful mission, a successful _rescue_ and Kir – he didn’t hear the thralls’ screaming anymore.

“Odds aren’t good my ass!” Naomi cackled, hauling Anur into a backslapping embrace, the Herald echoing her laugh. Ulrich and he exchanged glances and settled for a firm handshake, Kir unable to keep himself from asking lowly, “Losses?”

“You’re not going to believe it,” the captain said, smile growing and Kir had to brace himself against the other man, whispering with disbelief, “None? There were no losses?”

“Three horses, injuries – some bad enough I might be suggesting discharge, but no truly crippling ones – and not a single death,” Ulrich elaborated, a wry gleam in his eye as he said, “They say every commander gets one of these – I never would have expected saving a Herald to have been mine.”

Kir laughed ruefully, stepping back from the captain and rolling his eyes when Anur nearly tackled him in a hug, Naomi snickering as she elbowed Ulrich and the captains meandered off, undoubtedly working out how long they needed to linger here. “Lenora’s going to _live_ , Kir,” Anur whispered, face buried in his shoulder, “She’s going to _live_.”

“She is,” Kir agreed, letting the silence stand for a time before saying, “So – give it a mark before we race off for the 62nd?”

“Your gelding, your timeline,” Anur agreed, pulling back and they both gave Riva a once over. The gelding snorted and pawed at the ground, nudging Kir’s chest with his nose. Kir laughed, scratching Riva’s ears and muttering, “Ridiculous horse.”

 _:Blasted impossible horse is what he is,:_ Aelius said with fond exasperation, _:Still haven’t figured out what is going on with him – I haven’t given him extra assistance since our escape from Brook. Once this alliance goes through, we have an appointment with an animal mindspeaker.:_

_:Really Aelius?:_

_:I want to know!:_

***===***pagebreak***===***

Anur pulled a seat out for Joss, the Healer nodding thanks and dropping into the chair with a tired groan. Naomi patted the man’s shoulder and started making a plate of cheese and cold-cuts while Kir filled a mug with water and set his headache blend to brew. The Sun Descending service had been abbreviated by necessity and concluded a mark ago, everyone scattering to rest. It had been a long few days, and the Valdemarans had only more long days to look forward to.

They’d managed to find cots for almost everyone, but Janner and Joss had taken to rotating out who was with Lenora once the most critical of her injuries had been treated so one of them was mostly alert. This was the end of Joss’ second shift with her, and once they poured some food and tea down his throat the man was going to go back to the infirmary and collapse on his assigned cot.

But before that, there were some details to work out.

“Right. So, the Companions have kept this from the others – range gives an excuse, but that’s not going to hold for long,” Anur reported, taking a swig of his spiked tea and grimacing.

“We’re still keeping everything under wraps until next Midsummer?” Joss checked, the others in the sacristy nodding. Somehow it had become their standard meeting place for this consipiracy, at least when Ulrich’s office was too small. With the crowd that had assembled here after the service, Ulrich’s office would have been full to bursting. Now it was more comfortable, with only four of them here – Ulrich and Greich had gone to their own beds after a mug of tea.

“I told Herald Griffon you were visiting our Karsite allies, and since you stripped the disguise off Aelius and wore your whites, that should hold just fine – the only thing I’d be worried about is Griffon wondering at how easily our men worked together,” Naomi said, nudging Joss’ shin and passing him the plate of food, ignoring the healer’s disgruntled mutters that he wasn’t hungry.

“Joint raids and scouting runs would be within the scope of our original agreement,” Kir reminded them, “All we really need to ensure is that Anur isn’t called back to a post where he’ll have to report regularly. We’ll be in the 62nd six weeks out of eight, but those are going to shift as things come up here.”

“And we’ll have to deal with the fact we went against orders,” Joss reminded the captain, Naomi sighing before nodding in agreement. Kir shot Anur a surprised look and the Herald grimaced, glancing away briefly before meeting Kir’s eyes again and explaining.

“After you explained how blood-mages gain power, a priority has been in keeping people out of Hardorn – we can’t tell where blood-mages can draw power from death, so the idea is to avoid giving them more power by sending people across the border as little as possible. Captured soldiers… after the first few, we realized that we were losing too many people, giving them too much strength, for rescues to be feasible. Now – now that it’s somewhat common knowledge what those mages will do to you – everyone keeps a knife on them. You don’t want to wake up to that.”

Kir’s exhale was a hiss between his teeth, Naomi nodding at his sharp look and confirming it, saying, “Standing orders are to never cross the border of Hardorn outside of an engagement, and even then to retreat across the border as soon as possible. We don’t know what keeps their magecraft from working so well on our side of the border, but we’ll damn well take advantage. Captured soldiers are understood to be on their own. It doesn’t happen often, Ancar’s forces don’t make capture a priority, so there haven’t been many who ran up against those orders.”

“So when Griffon went to you…”

“He wasn’t asking us for anything,” Naomi refuted, “He was simply relaying what happened to Herald Lenora, a known ally, and seeking counsel with Herald Anur, his comrade and a friend of Lenora’s.”

“He’s not going to let you take the fall for this,” Anur said quietly, “And I won’t either.”

“You lot were already on your way,” Naomi said sharply, “Just how do you plan to cover for me at all?”

“We were already on our way, like you said,” Anur shrugged, spreading his hands, “As I wasn’t in barracks when Griffon came by, you escorted him to the border so Harevis could communicate the news to me, and after you heard that we were already on our way to rescue her, Griffon took off, you simply followed.”

“No,” Joss grumbled, “No one will buy that – hearing that you were already there and having _that_ prompt her into breaking orders, rather than planning it from the moment Griffon rode in – “

“I sent some men back to the barracks _immediately_ , that won’t hold up – “

“Do you need me here?” Kir murmured, Anur raising an eyebrow at him before giving a tired smile, “No, it’s our story. Going to check on Griffon?”

“Someone needs to,” he said dryly, “He by the infirmary?”

“Sitting outside the infirmary, Harevis says,” Anur relayed, refocusing on Naomi and Joss’ conversation in time to add another detail they’d have to work into the report. Resting a hand on Anur’s shoulder for a moment, Kir gathered another mug of tea and left the three Valdemarans to it. If Anur needed him, he would call, but listening to the three of them plan out just how to spin their report – for _their_ sake, for _Karse’s_ sake – it wasn’t something he could contribute to. Besides, like he’d said, someone had to see to Griffon.

Griffon was indeed sitting on one of the benches outside the infirmary, staring up at the stars. Someone had given him a spare Sunsguard uniform that was a little big on him, but at least he wasn’t glowing in the moonlight. Glenn was glowing enough for both of them, lurking by the window closest to Lenora’s bed. “Tea?” he offered, holding out the steaming mug. It was chamomile – hopefully enough to help Griffon sleep without actively drugging him.

“Thanks, Father Kir,” the Herald murmured, taking the mug with a weary smile. Kir raised an eyebrow as he sat on next to him, saying dryly, “I thought we agreed that after nearly killing each other in a firestorm we were on a first name basis.”

“I think I have a bit more faith in your abilities than you’re suggesting,” Griffon chuckled, “But point. Thank you, Kir.”

“Hmm. Not faith in your own?” Kir took a sip of his tea, raising an eyebrow, “You are a powerful Firestarter, Griffon, and your control has improved immensely since we last spoke.”

“You can tell?” the Herald said, startled, and Kir shrugged before explaining.

“You set some fires during the raid, and I didn’t feel an overbearing pressure as fire was forcibly summoned into the world. When I first worked with you I could _feel_ how much effort you were putting into calling your flames. I don’t think I would ever call you subtle, but you are much better.”

“It’s Firestarting,” Griffon said dryly, “I don’t think _subtle_ is ever in the cards.”

Kir let the man see his sly smile and Griffon barked a laugh, shaking his head as he took another sip, voice rueful as he said, “I’m not even surprised. Of course you’ve figured out a way to make fire subtle.”

The firestarters sat in silence, enjoying the cool night air. Kir tilted his head back to rest against the building, letting his eyes drift across the constellations. The Firebird was just visible over the peaks of the barracks roofs, brightest star in the night sky its eye. It was his favorite constellation – his brother had told a hundred and one stories of how a firebird reached the sky, of just what a firebird was, of what one looked like, of where they lived…

“Copper for your thoughts,” Griffon murmured, elbows braced against his knees and head bowed.

“That constellation – brightest star in the sky, for us it’s the eye of the Firebird. Anur says it’s the heart of the Grove-Born in Valdemar?” Kir replied, sidestepping the less easily explained memories that had run through his mind.

“Where are the wings?” Griffon asked.

Kir cut the man a glance; his head was still bowed, describing the constellation would do no good at all. “I don’t know that it matters. Copper for your thoughts Griffon. They seem to be weighing on you.”

“I laughed at you,” Griffon said after a few long moments of silence, voice so soft Kir could barely hear him. “When you said Ancar would keep coming, that he wouldn’t care if fields rotted, if people starved – he would just keep coming. I couldn’t believe you, that anyone could be that – could be that terrible, that _evil_ , and I laughed and – I was wrong, I was so wrong.”

“Unfortunately,” Kir murmured, resting a hand between the Herald’s shoulder-blades, “Unfortunately, I was right. Had you been correct – I would have been so very happy.”

Griffon took a shuddering breath and looked up at last, eyes locking on his.

“Tell me of blood-mages.”


	24. A Family Divided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been written for a literal year, so Somariel, Happy Birthday to you too!!!

The weekly dinners with her family had once been a high point of her week, Kiara thought tiredly, working around her sister in their mother’s kitchen to get tea and sweetbread ready for everyone. Ma was arguing with Nana again, as they seemed to always be arguing nowadays, and she wished she’d never brought up the matter.

It had seemed so simple, when she’d heard that her first-mate’s little cousin had come visiting from the priesthood, no longer forbidden to keep in touch with his family and returning to the Sunlord’s service with his family’s willing consent. They could even write letters.

It had seemed so _right_ , when she’d heard another family a few towns over got a handwritten death notice in response to their own inquiries, full of apologies and explanations on how their child had met her end. They even received a purse.

The letters, the _explanations_ , were what had gotten her attention; but as she’d never known her brother she didn’t feel it was right for her to just send an inquiry off. Not when her grandmother held vigil every year with a bottle of _prodka_ , not when the half-finished knotwork Sun in Glory hanging above the family shrine grew a little more tattered around the edges every moon.

So she had mentioned it, near a moon ago, an idle sort of comment over the vegetables and conversation had simply _stopped_.

“What’s the point? What’s the _point_ Irma? He is _dead_ dead and gone and no condolence purse is going to change that!” Ma was shouting again, voice spiraling into a roar meant to be heard over waves and howling winds.

Not to be bested, Nana snarled back with a tone that sent pirates fleeing, “The _point_ is to know what happened! To be able to offer proper prayers, to be able to end the story with something besides, ‘and he was stolen from us!’ They can keep the blasted purse, I just want to know what happened to my grandson!”

“Why doesn’t ma want to know?” Kiara finally asked Elisia while they waited for water to heat. “Wouldn’t – wouldn’t it be better? To know?”

“I can’t see how it would,” Elisia said sadly, the only one of the three siblings to have children of her own. “It’s been – Sunlord it’s been twenty-three years, Kiara. Dead within the week he was taken or dead a few years later – ma’s mourned him for decades. Mourned and moved on. Digging up old wounds – no, I cannot blame her for avoiding it.”

Perhaps that was a difference between her and her sister, her and her ma, Kiara thought, brow furrowed as she busied herself with the mugs. She would always prefer to know.

Ma and Nana let the argument rest when tea and sweetbread came out, treating the other as if they weren’t even there. Kiara sat beside Lukas and wanted to apologize for ever bringing the issue up, couldn’t they just forget about it? Or at the very least stop screaming and come to a decision already?

“You don’t even have to read the cursed response,” Nana finally said, Kiara barely restraining a groan and not quite managing, judging by Lukas’ amused glance. Her oldest brother – her _only living_ brother, she firmly reminded herself – had managed to avoid most of these arguments, the lucky ass.

Before Ma could open her mouth to snap back, Lukas spoke up, resting his crippled arm on the table. “I wouldn’t mind knowing just what happened to him,” Lukas said mildly, Ma’s eyes resting on his gnarled and stiff-moving hand before looking up at him, gaze intent.

Something passed between them there, and she knocked back the last of her tea before standing and storming out the the room, tossing over her shoulder, “Fine. On your heads and hearts be it, don’t come weeping to _me_ when you hear the story of his burning!”

Elisia stood to leave too, saying quietly, “That was cruel, Lukas. I will not be a part of this.”

“We have the right to answers, Elisia. His being mother’s son takes away none of our own family obligation,” Lukas replied, the oldest of the siblings shaking her head and leaving.

“Well then,” Nana sighed, a small smile growing on her weathered face, “It’s about blasted time we got to write that letter. Kiara? You have the best hand of us.”

Kiara fetched supplies while Lukas and Nana started to argue about just what they were going to write. This argument, at least, wasn’t going to end in screaming. That could wait until they got a response back.

(The letter went out the next day, asking carefully about their grandson and brother’s demise, making clear all they wanted were details, no money, no compensation. Just the truth.

The truth: their grandson and brother was far from dead, needed no compensation, and wore robes that still featured in his family’s nightmares.)

_To Whom it May Concern,_

_We of the Dinesh family are writing in regards to our kinsman, Kir Dinesh, taken from home some twenty-three years ago in service to the Sunlord. We would appreciate an accounting of his demise, and desire only the truth of his death, seeking no compensation._

_By my hand,_

_Kiara Dinesh, Captain of the Sundancer_


	25. Tell No Lies

“I can’t find my boots!” Anur panted, bursting into the sacristy where Kir and Henri were checking over supply stocks.

Henri raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the black riding boots currently on Anur’s feet, and Kir hid a grin when Anur looked even more flustered and said, “Not those! These I mean! My white ones!”

Kir’s humor vanished at the reminder of why Anur alone was frantically packing his gear. Herald Griffon, Captain Naomi and the majority of her soldiers had headed out the day after Lenora had been rescued, but Joss and Janner had wanted to keep Lenora bedbound a few more days. A squad of Valdemarans had been left behind, Corinth left in charge of them, but Anur was going with them – it was the only way they could keep their stories believable, and Lenora needed the familiar and friendly face beside.

But Lenora was stable enough now, and with a litter hung between Glenn and Aelius’ saddles she could be brought back to Valdemar, to more and better healers than Joss and Janner. They’d known for a while that Anur would have to head north, reinforce the idea that he was just on patrols a lot, not absent from Valdemar as a whole. Lenora’s rescue just gave the perfect and most necessary time.

It didn’t mean either of them liked or were even comfortable with the idea.

“Did you check behind the wardrobe? On top of the shelves?” Anur lit up and bolted from the room, presumably to check one of those spots.

“How would a boot even get up there?” Henri asked, eyeing him incredulously and Kir snorted, waving a hand as he said, “Fetching practice – boredom happens. Frequently. And at least his practicing doesn’t involve burning things constantly.”

“Just throwing boots on top of bookshelves,” the younger priest said dryly, “Well, whatever works, I suppose. So glad I never ended up in those classes – much more stressful. Now, how are we on sandalwood? None are in these cupboards.”

“Looks like two boxes of cones, standard size,” Kir reported, “Sufficient even if we run across _bishra_ up here, and with the supplement purification patrols we’ve been able to incorporate with scouting runs, unlikely.”

“Agreed. I have… _fourteen_ bushels of dried sage – what could you possibly need all that for?”

“Well now that you’ve commented on it, we’ll be finding out.”

“I take it back!”

By the time they’d finished the inventory, Anur had managed to find his white boots in some obscure corner of their quarters. He wasn’t actually _wearing_ his Heraldic uniform – that would wait until after they were out of Karse – but Kir could see the white fabric stuffed into the saddlebags tossed on their bed, and Anur wasn’t wearing his rank markings or his Enforcer sash. It was absurd, they had days where they wore plainclothes, it wasn’t like Anur _only_ ever wore his uniform – hells, on Lenora’s rescue last week he’d been _wearing_ his whites – but seeing him like this was disorienting and strange and Kir _didn’t like it_.

“I don’t like this,” Anur echoed, muttering it under his breath as he crossed his arms, hunching in on himself.

“I don’t particularly like it either,” Kir admitted, hugging Anur fiercely and burying his face in his shoulder, “You’re going to do something _stupidly reckless_ and I’m going to have to single-handedly invade Valdemar and _then_ where are we going to run?”

“Jkatha,” Anur muttered, “There’s always Jkatha. Also, I am _not_ the one to be worried about here – what are _you_ going to get up to? With my luck I’ll get a call from Kari in the middle of meeting with the Queen and need to handwave excuses and then get _Fetched_ out of there in a ball of fire.”

“I found a Jkathan-Karsite dictionary in the archives. It’s on our shelves. Just say the word and we can run for it,” Kir offered, never more serious about their half-joking plan than he was in this moment. It was absurd, it was ridiculous, but compared to everything else they’d faced in these messy, revolutionary years it was the thought of separating from Anur for _weeks_ , of not seeing him, maybe not even being able to _mindspeak_ with him (and when had _that_ cursed gift become a reassurance, become a gift in truth) – it was that which had him ready to drop everything and run.

“We’re committed Kir, we’re not running now,” Anur huffed a laugh and continued, “Unless the Lord Marshal’s found out about this and is waiting to grill me as we speak. Then I’ll be delivering Lenora and making tracks for Jkatha. You can catch up with me.”

 _:He hasn’t,:_ Aelius spoke up at last, _:I’ve been feeling out Rolan and Caryo for the past few days – just barely in range for us, worst come I can boost Anur to speak with you Kir, though I wouldn’t recommend it outside of dire need – and they’re not hinting at anything odd. And I know them, I’d be able to tell if they were hiding something about Anur.:_

_:That does help. Thank you, witch-horse.:_

_:You’re welcome, sunpriest.:_

“Well, best get this over with,” Anur took a deep breath to steady himself and stepped back, Kir reluctantly letting him. Shouldering his bags, he headed for the door and Kir followed. He’d follow as far as he could.

And then he’d pay very careful attention to Anur’s mind against his own. If anything went wrong, he wasn’t going to rely on Aelius’ dire straights relay to alert him. He wanted to be halfway to Valdemar by the time he got that call.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Lenora could have cried when they finally reached Valdemaran barracks a few days later, but she managed to hold back tears and just grinned up at Anur when the other Herald walked alongside her litter, new soldiers carrying it after unstrapping Aelius and Glenn’s rigs. “Seems we’re switching roles,” she said, a startled look crossing Anur’s face before he laughed, resting his hand on her shoulder.

“Seems we are,” he agreed, “Though maybe Griff would be more appropriate, since he’s the one waiting here for us?”

“But it’s not nearly so symmetric,” she sighed, her fellow Herald snorting and she counted the lightened mood as a win. She hadn’t been aware of much those first days in Karse, but the day and a half she’d been fully conscious in the 62nd’s barracks had been an eye-opener, and Anur’s distant gaze and tense shoulders as they rode north had been something of a kick in the teeth.

People of Karse had _tortured_ him. One loyal Sunsguard unit and a quietly devoted Sunpriest aside, the rest of the country wouldn’t bother to spit on him if he were on fire, and Anur was at home there. He was counting the days until he could return.

 _What did we do to lose you, brother?_ she wondered, smiling and nodding when Anur offered to take care of Glenn for her, giving her hand a squeeze before heading off with the Companions.

She had been a circuit rider specializing in the southern reaches for a couple of years when word had come of a new Herald being assigned to the bandit hunting units by Karse. Meeting Bellamy – a man she faintly remembered coming in freshly Chosen right before her internship began – had set her teeth on edge. He was running from something, and as much as Lenora had tried to anchor him, to offer genuine affection and regard, he’d never stopped looking around as though someone was going to snatch everything from him and leave a knife in his back.

By the time the war with Hardorn had started, she’d mostly resigned herself to occasional romps in the hay, but nothing deeper, not with Bellamy. Man made friends with anyone, but ask for anything more and he gave a guileless laugh and pretended to misunderstand.

After he’d come back from Karse that first, disastrous time, she’d seen something new in his eyes, recognized something more solid in his core and had been quietly pleased. At least something good had come from his wretched experiences, at least he’d been able to find something to cling to. In her weaker, vainer moments, she’d fancied that something had been her, but that delusion hadn’t lasted long.

It had burnt to ash when he ran out to find a Firestarter he’d known all of a year, shaking off her reminders of duty and obligation and _Valdemar_ with a snarl. But even with all that, she’d have never thought that he considered Karse his home, and if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes she’d have never believed it.

Lenora let the healers fuss, answered questions when prompted but mostly let Joss do the talking. When the Lord Marshal arrived to question her, Captain Mecal a grim shadow in his wake, she gave every scrap of information and supposition she had on the Hardornens, all the guess work, all the mind-torn pieces and scraps, anything that could be useful and a lot that probably wasn’t. Once questions were turned to Karse, she gave all sorts of information on the layout of the barracks, on the skill of their medic, on the respect the soldiers had offered her, on the way they’d skirted around Glenn but treated him well nonetheless, on the priest that had come to speak with her at Anur’s side – and she kept firmly behind her teeth the uniform Anur had worn like a second skin, red sash a beacon to her eyes, she kept tight lipped on the salutes, the respectful ‘Lieutenant-Enforcers’ that fell from soldier’s lips with ease, like a habit. She forcibly ignored the conclusions she’d drawn on the way home, the pregnant, anxious silence that their departure had left behind, and the hushed conversations amongst her escort when they thought she was asleep.

Anur’s home was Karse, and she would not take that from him.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Bellamy’s debriefing had been full of intriguing tidbits, potential avenues of investigation into whatever the hell was going on in Karse, but nothing truly groundbreaking. To be expected, his priest friend apparently spat on Sunhame regularly, with the unit left in the cold by political maneuvering most of the time they’d hardly know details of Sunhame politics – but Lord Randon knew there was something more and not being able to figure it out was so very frustrating.

Even more frustrating, he could admit to himself, was the fact that very few others seemed to care. Herald Dirk occasionally came to him asking after Bellamy and they would exchange knowledge, exchange ideas, but the Queen and Queen’s Own and even the Herald-Consort would reassure him that if there was something wrong, their Companions would have let them know, and couldn’t they focus on Hardorn for a bit and oh, there were fresh surges of pirate activity near Evendim, any word on that?

Worse yet, at every turn he was stonewalled by those he had thought trustworthy. Those he knew still _were_ trustworthy, when it came to Valdemar’s safety, their kingdom’s security, but apparently held the privacy of this one Herald as paramount to answering his entirely reasonable questions!

What he wouldn’t give to have Coroc back and willing to relay Heraldic gossip to his father. Not a day went by that he didn’t curse ever trusting that swine Orthallen and whispering even a hint of his son’s duties in that man’s vassal territories.

It had only taken Coroc’s death for him to see something off in that smooth-talking, oh so genuinely concerned _bastard_ and he kicked himself near daily for not following up on it, for letting himself think that it was carelessness that had gotten his son killed, not malicious _intent_.

Pinching the bridge of his nose and pouring himself a glass of the horrifically strong alcohol Naomi had stashed in her office, he toasted his dead son and let himself mourn his permitted moment a day before choking it down and pouring another as he focused once again on the matter at hand. There was no matter at hand, which was half the problem he ruefully admitted to himself, not only that but whatever questions he might have had answered in this mess had only spawned more. And since their ridiculous story – and yes, it was a story, the grand scope was true but if Naomi hadn’t planned on penetrating the Hardornen border from the very start then he’d pour this whole bottle into his boot and drink it – had them saving a Herald thought lost, a woman thought tortured and gone, no one would support him in investigating the matter more thoroughly.

A knock on the door drew him out of his brooding and he looked up, raising an eyebrow when the door opened and Captain Naomi Mecal herself looked in, a wry gleam in her eye as she noticed his glass of whatever-this-was. “Strong stuff, isn’t it?” she said, shutting the door behind her and pouring herself a glass – double the amount he’d given himself, she’d apparently gotten used to it. “Sunpriest Dinesh sent it to me via Bellamy. Called _prodka_ , made out of potatos. Apparently he drinks the stuff like water some days.”

“Living in Karse as what I’d call a reasonably moral person?” Randon snorted, “I’m surprised he hasn’t drowned himself in it by now. What new story are you going to spin me, Mecal?”

“No story,” she said firmly, “You know exactly what details we skewed beyond recognition in that report, and you know damn well you’d have done the same thing in my place. The rest – it was real, my Lord.”

“And how many details did you just fail to mention entirely?” Jon snapped back, feeling that frustration start to boil over and unwilling to bury it again, not with Mecal, not with the woman who’d taught his children Sarjan curses and brought strange sweets whenever she reported, “Maybe everyone else is willing to take it on faith that all your little details on cooperation with that Karsite unit don’t need to be reported, aren’t worth hearing but _I know you_ and your reports were _ridden_ with details and needless specifics and now here I am hearing sweeping generalizations and watching you dangle shiny distractions in front of people while you sweep broken glass under a rug!”

“You’re right,” she said solemnly and he felt himself deflate. She hadn’t denied it, hadn’t tried to say there was nothing for him to worry about and he’d half hoped she would because then at least there would be something to _chase_.

“You’re right, my Lord. We’re holding something back. But I need you to trust us for a little longer. Joss, Bellamy, me – my men even know some of it. We’ve been working these angles a long time, sir, and I’m asking you to let me see this through.”

“Like that, is it?” he hissed between his teeth, “I may understand deniability, Mecal, but if this gets out and is as big as you seem to be implying – I can’t shield you three from the Council, not entirely. Bellamy will be all right, the Circle judges their own and he still has his Companion, but you and Joss? Vouching can only do so much.”

“We know,” she said quietly, “We’ve always known that. But this is worth it.”

She honestly believed it, he could see that clearly. They’d finished their debriefing, given out privately public reprimands for disobeying orders and giving truly private congratulations and thanks for doing exactly what he would have done in her place, and she was still here. The most reasonable thing for her to do would be to wander around, do her job, and keep her head down until the Haven-bound group left.

Instead, she’d walked into her office, the office he’d taken over, and sat down to tell him that she was pulling the wool over his eyes, they were pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes, and they needed his help to keep it there a while longer.

He’d always had a soft spot for bravely honest agents.

“How much longer do I need to look the other way?”

“Everything should be solid by next Midsummer – and we just need you to not ask _us_ questions, not investigate our units – none of us expect you to avoid sending agents into Karse entirely, the rumors coming out of there are utterly bizarre.”

“Oh I know,” he snorted, leaning back in his seat and taking another sip of this utterly terrible _prodka_. Drinking it without any mixers was awful, he could practically feel his stomach getting a hole burned in it as he swallowed, but damn if he couldn’t already feel that pleasant buzz of verging on tipsy.

His judgment wasn’t yet impaired though, so he sighed and nodded, raising his glass to his captain, “Very well, Mecal. You’ve won yourself a year. But I expect this story – the _real one_ – to be damn well worth waiting for.”

Her grin was a sly thing full of teeth, “Oh trust me, my lord. It’d be worth waiting a _decade_ for.”

***===***pagebreak***===***

Anur scanned for observers and, finding none, slumped against the wall and let his head drop back, taking a few deep breaths. He hadn’t thought being back in Valdemar would be so hard, but every time he looked up and saw blue and silver instead of red and black and orange, he felt it like ice water across his face. When he looked down at his sleeve and spotted his whites he had to suppress the immediate _check for observers get out of sight get out of that blasted uniform_ reaction.

He’d woken up four times in the six days they’d been out of range, near panic because Kir wasn’t there and he _couldn’t hear him_. Aelius talked him down, but it took longer, took more convincing, because lurking in his mind was the fear that Kir was _gone_.

 _:Griffon incoming,:_ Aelius murmured and Anur nodded, pulling himself back together and straightening, looking up as Griff rounded the corner and letting a smile quirk at his lips, “Hey Griff. How’re you doing?”

“Well, I’ve heard more variations of ‘you idiot how could you risk yourself like that _never again_ but thanks’ than I thought existed,” the redhead said wryly, looking around at the empty alley and settled against the wall next to Anur. “Heard you were in this direction, hope you don’t mind company.”

“No, no,” Anur grinned, waving a hand idly, “Just hiding from the questions myself. Don’t know how many ways to say I happened to be with Kir when Lenora’s screams came in, relayed what happened after I dropped and then everything just started moving – with Kir there to keep the blood-mages at bay, they weren’t risking more than other military engagements – well, besides Sunhame finding out.”

“I think relaying the explanations I got from Kir really helped mitigate things,” Griff said, “Pass on my thanks to him, will you?”

“Course,” Anur smirked, “He’s always happy to spread the word on killing blood-mages.”

“I don’t blame him,” Griffon’s expression was blank and grim in a way that Anur knew very well, from the mirror, from Kir – from their Firestarters. “I’m sure somehow, somewhere, someone uses that magic for good – voluntary donors, willing consent, self-sacrifice – power is power, it’s how you use it, how you get it. But Ancar’s blood-mages, most people who’d go that far – evil is the only word for it.”

“Yeah,” Anur agreed, deciding that he’d raise the matter of possibly morally acceptable blood-magic with Kir possibly never, but noting the idea nonetheless as a good potential distraction to toss Kir’s way.

Things to keep Kir’s mind busy without setting fires in the vicinity or purchasing even more string were always handy. Kir didn’t think he’d noticed, or at the least had been careful to place the pendants when Anur wasn’t around, but Lenora had a knotwork Sun in Glory in browns and golds under her pillow and Griffon had a red and orange one tucked into his saddlebags.

That made four Heralds holding sigils of the Sunlord, though Herald Alberich’s was a wall hanging and probably didn’t travel with him.

He’d have to work on Companion-hair projects. They could facilitate a knotwork exchange!

_:That’s a terrible idea Chosen.:_

_:It’s adorable!:_

_:I’d be bald within a week! Not doing it! Besides, your knotwork is terrible! Stick to carving.:_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a present! Whatever holiday you like - or no holiday at all - have a gift!
> 
> Incidentally, Lord Randon IS the name given in Arrows of the Queen to the Lord Marshal - introduced by way of his son, Coroc, a Herald Trainee Talia meets during arms-practice. Coroc is never mentioned again, his father is described as Orthallen's ally in court until Talia comes back from her internship and finds a tense verging on hostile vibe between them, and I decided to run with it.
> 
> It was either dead or undercover somewhere as one of his father's agents, and I thought dead made for less investment in sidestories on my part (I have enough of those, thank you.)
> 
> Aw man "For Whom the Bell Tolls" would make an AWESOME dying Herald fic title... but I'm pretty sure that's a copyright violation.


	26. Returns Long Overdue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a chapter! *cackles maniacally*

Markov, former priest of Karse, was sorely regretting agreeing to return after contacts assured him Solaris seemed to be sticking around. Between the shepherds and the hill-folk that had helped smuggle so many to safety passing the word along and his own occasional forays into rumormongering for the sake of finding tidbits of truth, he’d heard enough – of revolution, of dying Fires, of no more Furies – to dare to hope.

More critically, others had heard the same. Others he’d helped flee Karse, others he’d helped settle in Valdemar, others who’d heard stories of Karse from their parents, their elders, and felt so ill at ease in Valdemar that they longed for a chance at their homeland, but not at risk of their lives. So rather than let one of those others do something foolish – like _walk to Sunhame without even speaking decent Karsite_ those impossible children _–_  he had informed them that _he_ would return and if they didn’t hear from him by midwinter, consider the rumors illegitimate and their contacts suspect.

It was a damn shame they’d been wrong, he thought wryly, sending a prayer to a god he’d never quite been able to give up on and reaching for the ley-line he’d found just before nightfall. It had been literal decades since he’d been able to work even the slightest of spells, one day in Valdemar under the watch of those never-ceasing eyes enough to tell him that spellwork of any sort was not tolerated in that land, regardless of intent, but some things were never truly forgotten.

Fortunately, warding against Furies was one of them.

Ignoring the press of induced hysteria against his shields, he bared his teeth at the chittering shadowed wretches and let his memory take over. If he tried to think about it too much, the Karsite would stutter over his Valdemaran-trained tongue, his eyes would shy away from a scene from his nightmares, the ley-line and spellwork would unravel in his hands under decades of habit.

He had used magic to heal, before fleeing to that mage-barren land. The Tedrel wars had been horrible.

He heard the scream of a horse and he grimaced; he’d hoped that if he tied his horse a few hills over by the spring with some misdirection wards and set up camp elsewhere, the beast would be spared. He didn’t have the energy to calm an animal and ward himself, but it seemed his gambit hadn’t paid off and he’d be walking back to Valdemar.

One Fury unraveled from this plane, shrieking in rage and leaving iced over clawmarks in the earth, and he stumbled, bracing himself on a stave and he swore, lashing out with ill-practiced fire magic to keep the other creatures back as he started work on another unraveling. That had taken far more out of him than he’d anticipated, and getting back to Valdemar, surviving the night, had just become far less likely.

He’d rather die and take these wretches with him than leave them to prey on his people. There was no better way to perish.

Suddenly, he smelled sage.

Burning arrows trailing sage-scented smoke slammed into the Furies, the creatures hissing and shrieking as blessed heat and flame harmed them so much more than a mere campfire could manage and Markov could hardly breath – and whatever breathe he had was stolen in the roar of an inferno.

Why was there no screaming he was _surrounded by fire –_ he shut his eyes and forced himself to breathe through it, hands clenched into fists at his side and he shuddered as the heat surrounding him doubled, tripled, his skin felt tight, his tongue dry, where were the _screams_ – 

But the only screams were Furies.

He had to force himself to open his eyes and couldn’t suppress another shudder. He was surrounded by charred earth, heat shimmering from the blackened soil and he didn’t look over when he heard a familiar – still so _young_ – voice say, “Hail, traveler. Was that your horse a few hills over?”

“Dinesh,” he murmured, turning around and meeting the now bewildered Firestarter’s eyes, the even _younger_ black-robe riding beside him – how young _was_ Sunhame ordaining these days? – looking between them with a raised eyebrow. “Aye,” he continued, “That’s my horse. Couldn’t keep the beast calm and unravel Furies, hoped to keep it out of their way.”

“You managed it,” Dinesh said, dismounting in a swirl of gold-and-black trimmed red, “Finding it alone we feared that the swarm was already feeding – not many can defend against them. Now, kinsman to my brother, I ask what brings you to Karse, and, more critically, what brings Furies down on you?”

The man who’d gone by Marcus Bellamy most of the past twenty years grimaced, registered the recognition on the other priest’s face as something suspicious, something he needed to ask after, and asked, “How familiar are you with anchored curse traps?”

***===***pagebreak***===***

_: - you hear me now? Anur?:_

_:I hear you!:_ Anur shot back, reaching behind him to bring his bow around and string it, Aelius surging over the next set of hills and taking a ridgeline. _:How many?:_

 _:A massive swarm,:_ Kir said, exhaustion edging his voice and Anur let one corner of his mind devolve to enraged cursing for ever letting his brother out of his _sight_ because it had been two and a half weeks and _this_ had happened. _:At least it means we’re on the right anchor. I am so glad you were almost ready to come back anyway.:_

_:Kir, if you’d called me the moment I rode in with Lenora, I’d have come. You know that.:_

_:Being able to count on your arrival without worrying about how we’re going to explain it to the Witch-Queen is definitely preferable. How many arrows do you have and do you have any sage?:_

_:No sage, full quiver of twenty-three, half hunting.:_

_:Blast – sage is a distinctive hum – I need to borrow your eyes.:_

_:Whatever you need. I hear them! Getting close!:_

Earlier experiments had revealed that Kir could receive his words with Aelius boosting him at a further distance than Kir could reply – their current limiter was the distance between the border and the 62nd, while Kir could only use words to reply within twenty mel. Further out and Anur could occasionally get feelings and sensations, sometimes jumbled concepts, but nothing truly coherent.

So when Anur had woken up in the wee hours of the morning choking on terror and rage not his own, he had quite reasonably panicked.

It had been two and a half weeks since he’d left the 62nd, and it had taken a full three days to get Lenora across the border, five to get them all to the guard post where the Haven delegation waited. Five more before the Haven-bound group rode off, Naomi pulling him aside after the Lord Marshal left and telling him that she’d convinced him to hold questions until next Midsummer, and another three before Griffon was called up towards Iftel.

Another day spent with the men of the 76th, wondering at how utterly _similar_ his duties were here, as a Herald not quite within the chain of command, when compared with his duties in Karse, as a Lieutenant-Enforcer quite outside everyone’s authority except apparently Kir’s. And Solaris’. It was rather comforting, in a not-quite-right sort of way.

But it had been weeks of poor sleep and absurd volumes of stress and his brother _hadn’t been there_. So while he would admit that slamming through the camp in pre-dawn light with Aelius warming up for the fastest speed he could manage had, perhaps, been done theatrically, he would never say it was over the top. Especially not when he reached the border and found a herdsman waving him down to pass on the message that _Furies_ had been heard in the night and would he pass on thanks to the Firestarter for dealing with them?

He was never leaving Kir alone again. He shuddered to think what might happen if he was gone for any longer than a couple of weeks.

 _:Jkatha?:_ Aelius suggested.

 _:At this point I don’t think fleeing the country would even help,:_ Anur groaned, _:We’ve been cursed. What did I do in a past life?:_

 _:Nothing,:_ Aelius replied promptly, Anur rising in the stirrups as they headed over the last rise and letting arrows fly.

At the edge of his peripheral vision, arrows started lighting up and the Furies shrieked, parting and boiling around them as his twenty-three arrows whirled in a spiraling tunnel edged with fire, allowing him and Aelius to pass through. Kir greeted him with a quick glance and a purely mental surge of relief-welcome- _thank the One God you’re home_ before turning back to the swarm he was fending off.

Aelius slid to a halt and Anur flung himself out of the saddle, arrows redirected to line the cleared circle Kir was maintaining and he drew his throwing knives instead, bow hooked around the horn of his saddle. Bracing his shoulder against Kir’s because he couldn’t quite smother the fear that he wasn’t here, that _Kir was gone_ , he asked, _:What do you need?:_

_:We need to keep the swarm off Markov and Henri’s backs long enough for them to dig up the anchor, determine how to destroy it or at least cut it off, and not die. The curse weakens the fabric of reality and makes the target irresistible to the beasts, so with us being right on top of the source - :_

_:We don’t need to worry about Furies slipping off and causing havoc, but we also won’t be running out of Furies anytime soon,:_ Anur finished dryly, _:This Markov is the target then?:_

A flash of bewildered hurt and confusion and rueful surprise, but all Kir said was, _:Yes.:_

“Ah kill it kill it kill it!” Henri screeched, fairly flying out of the ditch they’d been digging and scrambling for his own quiver and bow, another man rolling onto the grass beside him, swearing with a shovel in hand. Anur lunged forward and called half those arrows to him and, with a sweeping gesture, rammed them into the rotting jumbled _mess_ that was surging out of the ground after them, Kir immediately setting the whole thing on fire.

“Die! All the sage! _All of it!_ ” Henri, looking rather manic, pulled another entire bushel of sage out of the bags by his quiver and tossed it onto the fire, Markov chanting in archaic Karsite with sparks of pure power at his fingertips.

Between the overpowering scent of sage, bindings made of glowing white power that left streaks in his vision and the fire’s yellow-white _heat_ leaving his skin tight and the ground seared, Anur really had no idea what exactly had killed whatever that thing was beyond it probably _not_ being his arrows. Kir liked anchoring flames in them anyway though, and if it hadn’t been some strange monstrous rotting cursed thing he might have had more of an impact, so he wasn’t going to take that too badly.

The flames and the glowing magecraft had given light though – more than enough to clearly see this Markov fellow the Furies had been so ardently after. Anur –

He barely even noticed that the chittering was gone.

 _:Easy, easy Anur, sit down it’s all right,:_ Kir was murmuring, catching him by the arm and guiding him to a seat on the ground, an arm around his shoulders as he crouched beside him. _:I thought this might be a shock.:_

“A _shock_?” Anur spluttered aloud, waving his hand in the man’s – his _uncle’s_ – direction, ignoring the man’s wince, “That’s – he’s – “

He had spoken words of archaic Karsite with a mountain town accent and called sparks of mage-crafted power to his hands. He had been cursed by those with enough power to seal anchored spells for _decades_ that called entire swarms of Furies down on him. Markov was a Sunpriest.

His uncle _hated_ Karse.

“So he actually is your kinsman?” Henri asked, but any answer was interrupted.

“You always hated Karse,” Anur said blankly.

The man he’d grown up knowing as his uncle, his father’s brother in every way that mattered, the man who’d taught him basic hand-to-hand and told the _best_ scary stories and looked at him like Anur had knifed him, like he was a traitor and oathbreaker and worse when he brought Kir home – he looked so heartbreakingly _like_ Kir when his mouth twisted in a bitter smile and said, familiar voice in a familiar jarringly wrong tongue, “Never Karse. Always Sunhame.”

“And I am sworn brothers with his father, Anur’s known me as his uncle since he was a young boy,” he said to Henri, the priest just nodding in response as he continued to pack up his gear and stow away his bow.

The silence held for a long while, the breeze stirring the ashes and leaving some embers to flare momentarily before subsiding again, and Anur felt like he was trying to shove through thick undergrowth in a fog to even think. Aelius felt equally confused and unsure against his mind and Kir’s steady presence was quiet and subdued and oddly grieved.

“We’ve exchanged dates,” Kir finally said, “Near as we can figure, Markov left two years before Herald-Captain Alberich was Chosen.”

“Spent the time before the Tedrel Wars learning the language, helping the other end of the line, getting my last charges settled. Got used to not shying away at white, grew accustomed to those blasted eyes, and decided to fight, when the Tedrels were hired,” Marcus said, hands in his pockets and gaze on the stars. “Met your father in the Wars – you know the latter part of that story.”

Anur did know the story from there, had grown up hearing laughing tales of the man with no surname who’d saved their da’s life and refused any repayment, so Connor had instead dragged him home and introduced him as a brother. Anur had faint memories of that day, he’d only been five or six years old, but he clearly remembered Marcus’ utter shock at being introduced as Marcus Bellamy, their uncle.

It seemed dragging Sunpriests home as brothers was something of a family tradition.

“You – you always told that story of when the queen had come to your fire and asked about – and Herald Alberich and – _you were a Sunpriest,_ it’s a tradition!” he started laughing, Anur couldn’t not, this was too much, so many old stories taking on a new tinge of hilarity with this knowledge and Kir barely managed to keep him from toppling over.

“Your da damn near died laughing when he realized he had started a family tradition,” Marcus said dryly, hesitating before continuing quietly, “I recognized Kir’s Sun-in-Glory the moment I saw it, but thought he’d been one of the children fled, raised in the Faith maybe but not – I fought Firestarters for so long, nephew. He was the face of my enemy.”

“And he _wasn’t wrong_ ,” Kir reminded him, voice quiet.

“No – I – no!” Anur stumbled over that denial, unsure just what he was denying but looking up and meeting Kir’s gaze stubbornly, “You were never the _enemy_ , Kir, how often did you look the other way? Did you let your gaze linger pointedly when you rode through town but never said a word, hoping they’d disappear? You _tried_ , damn it all and you are _not_ going to deny that!”

“I didn’t do enough,” Kir said, voice bleak and Anur recognized that shamed guilt in his eyes because he’d seen it so very often in Jaina’s eyes, in Seras’ gaze – he’d seen the other end of that, when Kir agonized over the precedent he was setting for his Firestarters, the unreasonable standard he was setting them up to measure against.

“You _tried_ ,” Anur snarled, hand tight around Kir’s and he didn’t look to Marcus, he couldn’t. If his uncle had said anything to encourage this, had said anything to convince Kir that he _hadn’t done enough_ then beloved uncle or no he was going to break the man’s nose.

“You tried so _fucking_ hard, Kir and you are _not_ going to minimize that – this is exactly what our Firestarters are dealing with, this is what you worried about – the unrealistic standard. You had no resources! Markov had backing, had confirmation that he wasn’t alone, that he wasn’t the only one that thought the Fires were wrong, were worth stopping, and of course he was able to save more! He wasn’t responsible for finding them in the first place, he wasn’t eyed with mistrust by civilians, soldiers and priests alike! The situations weren’t comparable at all and _don’t you dare sell yourself short,_ ” Anur hissed the last, pressing his forehead against Kir’s, other hand on the back of his brother’s neck and he could feel the faint tremors that meant Kir was holding himself together with string, _prodka_ and sheer stubbornness.

“I’ll just – go get the horses, then?” Henri said into the silence that followed, packs over his shoulder and unstrung bow in hand, “Give you three time to – figure something out.”

“My nephew speaks truly,” Markov said as Henri fled; the man hesitated when neither of them responded beyond Kir shuddering and shifting to rest his head on Anur’s shoulder, continuing, “Beyond that – I will be honest, it took me many years even in Valdemar to truly believe that Gifts were not a sign of evil witchcraft. I frankly did not care. The Sunpriests had killed my sister and I would see them fail in every way I could manage, even if I allied with demons. There were no noble motives, or at least they were few. It was mostly hate.”

“Ending up with a nephew as a Demon Rider must have been quite the shock,” Kir said dryly, but didn’t move away from Anur.

“Oh I think seeing him ride up in an Enforcer uniform worn like a second skin was definitely worse,” Marcus said dryly, taking a sip from a very familiar flask, “Young Henri giving me this makes much more sense now. That poor boy.”

Anur couldn’t suppress the laugh at that, Kir chuckling and raising his head, saying ruefully, “I don’t think he’s ever going to agree to the the one watching my back again, it’s been – a rough couple of weeks.”

“My end too,” Anur said, getting to his feet and pulling Kir up, “Don’t think I’ve gotten a full night’s sleep since I left.”

“I didn’t even try,” Kir admitted, looking over to Marcus and asking, “Are you good to ride? With the moonlight, I think we can get to the 62nd by dawn, we can find an extra bed for you there.”

“I just tapped into a major ley-line for the first time in decades,” Marcus said dryly, “I won’t be sleeping till dawn at the earliest, it’s worse than _chava_. I thank you for the offer, and I hope I’ll get at least some of this story?”

“I do want to know why you’re in Karse again,” Kir pointed out, nodding thanks to Henri as he took Riva’s reins, “We can swap knowledge after sleep.”

“Sleep,” Henri said longingly, passing reins to Marcus, “That sounds – wonderful.”

“Yeah – it really does,” Anur agreed.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Even with only arriving at the 62nd a mark or so before dawn, Kir couldn’t sleep. Staring up at the ceiling, he could just hear the closing hymns of the dawn service through the walls. It felt very strange, to hear a service and not be presiding, much less attending. Even when in Sunhame he usually ended up presiding over the services within the Firestarting Hall, and only occasionally attended the main Temple services when Solaris was preaching.

It was all a distraction though, because thinking about the service meant thinking about those attending, and while he was honored and privileged to truly know the men he ministered to and trusted them, there was one new arrival that he didn’t quite know what to do with.

Marcus Bellamy. He had never thought he’d see the man again, brief worries that Anur was trying to force some doomed-to-fail reconciliation after Nichter’s folly aside, and to find him standing in the middle of a Fury swarm, flinching away from fire and speaking of anchored curses and powerful priest-mages now thankfully dead – well. It explained more than it didn’t. It explained a lot, actually, but he couldn’t help but hear Anur’s dazed, bewildered voice.

_“You always hated Karse.”_

Sunlord, but he had never truly considered what Anur had felt with his uncle’s very clear rejection of Kir that winter years ago. He had known Anur was upset, had argued with the man to the point of screaming and had taken some time to warm up to him again for the sake of the children, but he had always thought – always assumed, rather, that it was primarily on his behalf. After Anur’s explanation regarding the Delilah matter he should have known better, or should have at least _thought_ about what Marcus’ rejection might have meant to Anur personally, but he had honestly been so relieved and overwhelmed and just _tired_ it hadn’t occurred to him.

Anur was far too good at pasting on a smile and racing away from his problems to solve someone elses. Hells, Anur probably hadn’t even realized he _was_ shying away from something, or had at least forgotten it over time.

Markov didn’t even realize it. Kir was certain that if any apology resulted from their interactions, Markov would direct it to Kir, as the offended party, and not to Anur, as his defender.

That whole argument hadn’t even really been about him, had it?

 _:You’re thinking loud enough I can hear it from here,:_ Anur mumbled, some of those words apparently said aloud but with his face smashed against Kir’s ribs he couldn’t clearly hear anything.

“And I thought my shields were good,” Kir said aloud ruefully, Anur scoffing and shifting enough that Kir could actually hear his reply.

“Not actual _words_ just – the buzzing is louder. I can tell your mind’s _busy_ , which it _shouldn’t_ be since we’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“The service,” Kir shrugged helplessly, “I’ve never really heard one without attending.”

“Of course,” Anur huffed, rearranging his limbs till he was slightly less contorted, “Now what’s actually keeping you awake.”

Kir hesitated, but only briefly because this did need to be addressed and right now, while everyone thought they were passed out to catch up with two weeks of poor sleep, was the best and truly only time for it – “Your uncle.”

Anur stiffened, and sat up.

Kir moved to sit next to him, pressing their shoulders against each other and not commenting on the bleak expression on Anur’s face for the moment, just letting the silence hold. Finally, Anur took a careful breath and said, “He _will_ apologize to you for what he said Kir, I will see to that.”

“I’m more concerned with him apologizing to you,” Kir rebuked gently, “As you’ll recall, it wasn’t _Marcus’_ statements that devastated me – but I’m rather certain, now, that they devastated you. I hadn’t realized but – you looked up to him quite a bit, didn’t you?”

“I was his favorite,” Anur said softly, before barking a laugh and swiping at his eyes, saying, “Such a stupid thing – he always made time for me, promised to keep an ear out for me when I was Chosen – told the best scary stories and he taught me to fight – he’s the one – he’s the only one I ever mentioned Delilah too, on my way to the border and he – he told me that it wasn’t my fault, that I couldn’t know and that – that my tendency to make friends was something to be proud of and then when I brought you home he was so _angry_ – “

“Anur,” Kir murmured, pulling the now weeping Herald against his chest and burying his face in his hair, “I’m so sorry, brother, to have never seen how much his anger hurt you.”

“He’d always – I’d say the _randomest_ things and he’d just – just nod and say I had good judgement and then he just – spat on it and I – you’re my _brother_ , and it was bad enough when I thought it was from the Tedrel Wars, that he’d had some nightmare happen there and it just – biased him forever but _he’s a Sunpriest_!”

“To Valdemar, Karse is a land of storied villains, Sunpriests the most monstrous. To Sunpriests, Firestarters are heralds of death and terror and _fire_. I will be honest Anur, when I thought Markov your father’s brother in blood I couldn’t figure out what a Firestarter could have done to him to spark such rage, not with the timing of our nations’ conflicts, and finding out he was a Sunpriest – a _treacherous_ Sunpriest at that, one who grew up hating and actively subverting Sunhame’s will – it explained far more than it didn’t.”

“…this _does_ explain why he always asked if Aelius was dragging me into trouble again rather than any other way around,” Anur said thoughtfully.

 _:It also explains that series of very strange conversations on your early visits home where he wondered aloud if giving me off feed would have any detrimental effects on you, subsequently vowing that if anything_ should _happen to you on my watch I had best watch my grain supply,:_ Aelius mused, both Kir and Anur struck speechless for a few moments at that revelation.

 _:Wow. I’m… flattered, and deeply disturbed,:_ Anur sent back, _:He really did think you might be a demon, or at least didn’t discount it entirely.:_

 _:And from what he said, he managed to endure_ decades _of being under near constant watch by the vrondi without losing his mind,:_ Kir pointed out, _:To be honest brother, from what he said about not believing the Gifted weren’t evil – I’d suspect he never really tried to break that mental conditioning until you were Chosen or evidenced Gifts earlier. Before that he just – did what he had to, to survive and spite Sunhame.:_

Anur shuddered, and Kir hesitated to continue but did so after a few moments of silence.

_:Anur – it sounds like he broke a lifetime of beliefs in the evils of the Gifted and the demonic nature of Companions because he couldn’t bear a world where his nephew was wicked. That takes – tremendous strength, and a deep regard. I don’t doubt that he loves you.:_

_:Well he’s got one more mental shift to make,:_ Anur said grimly, _:Because if he spits on you and ours again, he’s no kinsman of mine.:_

***===***pagebreak***===***

He hadn’t realized there was a choice to make until he’d made it, Anur mused, taking a sip of the lukewarm spice-cake tea Kir only ever made for him when he was worried. They’d managed to doze until noon but figured they’d be able to last until proper nightfall with those hours to brace themselves on. Briefing the usual conspiracy on what had happened in Valdemar hadn’t taken long at all; Lenora was on her way to recovery, mind and body-healers alike ready to tend to her, and the Lord-Marshal had agreed to hold pushy questions until next Midsummer. Anything further on that front wasn’t truly important, not to those within Karse.

Which had left the explanation for just what had happened in Karse during those two and change weeks; nothing out of Sunhame so far as they were aware, but Kir had apparently been jumpy enough that Ulrich had given instructions to avoid startling him at all costs and Henri had sworn off ever watching Kir’s back on Anur’s behalf again. None of that was worth more than a few teasing comments though; it was the Furies, and the one they’d swarmed, that merited the most attention.

Word had apparently spread that the stranger they’d dragged back was a former Sunpriest and Anur’s uncle, with the understanding that Anur hadn’t known and from what he could read of the overall atmosphere – no one quite knew what to make of Markov. It was telling, that soldiers gave him a wider berth than either Kir or Anur, and that when he was in the room, hands had a tendency to sneak towards blades before catching themselves and settling uneasily on a hip or in a pocket.

So after the basic introductions and explanations had been exchanged, the three of them retreated to the sacristy. The carefully nonchalant offers of assistance cleaning the spotless chapel he overheard being given to Henri had Anur hiding a grin and Kir very carefully avoiding a fond smile. Markov undoubtedly heard it too, if the thoughtful glances their way were any indication.

“So. Uncle,” Anur started before the silence could grow strained, “I suppose the first question is whether I should call you uncle at all, and if you would prefer Markov or Marcus.”

“And even that prompts questions on my part,” the man replied carefully, looking between the two of them, “I planned to make it very clear I spent my exile in Valdemar, as I’m something of a scout for those who would rather return home – if I say that, you calling me uncle will draw unwanted attention, as cursory look into my Karsite family history will make that relation rather impossible. As for the name – I am used to Marcus, but I always thought of myself as Markov.”

“Markov then,” Kir decided for them both, saying to Anur, _:It might be best if I call him something different, given my former interactions with the man.:_

_:Fair point. And he raises a good one about my calling him uncle, though…:_

“I rather think that calling you uncle might help set the stage,” Anur focused on making his shrug seem as careless as possible while he readied the knife, “But I think the first matter to deal with is whether I would even care to call you uncle.”

Kir winced at that and Markov’s expression was ghastly before he ducked his head to hide it, focusing on his tea. Anur refused to waver though because he had that right, and if Markov refused to acknowledge that there was anything in need of resolution between them than he wasn’t going to bother claiming the man.

 _:Good,:_ Aelius said firmly, _:I would not see you knifed by one you trusted again.:_

“I suppose I do deserve that,” Markov admitted quietly, “Especially with how close you two apparently are.”

 _:I do not need to be_ close _to someone for your opinion to matter!:_ Anur snarled behind his teeth and Aelius sent a wash of soothing agreement to him.

“I am an Enforcer,” Anur said flatly, “ _Close_ is irrelevant, Markov, as I am a _part_ of that Order you so despise.”

“Not the one I despised!” Markov refuted, eyes narrowing, “You would never be part of something I found despicable, you _couldn’t_.”

He couldn’t bear a world where his nephew was wicked, Kir had guessed, and Sunlord from the sounds of it Kir was entirely right. But for Markov to have that much faith in him, that much faith in his judgment and _still_ have spat on his brotherhood with Kir - !

Kir suddenly stood, heading for the door to the sacristy and wrenching it open to find Henri mid-knock with Devek Koshiro behind him. All thought of wrenching an apology from Markov was shoved aside and Anur scrambled to his own feet, saying, “ _Witach’_ s brood?”

“No, thank the Sunlord,” Devek said with completely appropriate fervor before focusing on Kir again, “My apologies for interrupting Father Kir, but I think my niece’s friend has mindspeech and it’s gone – very wrong.”

“Gone wrong how?” Kir asked immediately, heading for the cupboards and rifling through them though apparently not having much luck.

“Apparently it started as responses to things no one had said yet, but rather quickly escalated to being unable to sleep because of how loud it was – I showed up during that stage and within a day sleep-deprivation started affecting her so I don’t know how much of the screaming hysterics is due to that and how much is due to the witch-power – is there another name for those yet?”

“Talent seems to be the consensus,” Anur replied, “Sounds like she’s being overwhelmed by everyone else and can’t get any peace – powerful Talent then to hear non-Talented so clearly. Mindspeech is seldom a standalone, at least in Valdemar.”

“Probably some empathy,” Kir agreed, shutting the last door, “If she’s picking up on dreams so clearly, those are more muddled thoughts and emotions than something she should be able to pick up on as words and images. How far out from here?”

“Day and a half,” Devek said promptly, “The local priest had already started some sort of shielding which seemed to help but he agreed that an expert would be useful.”

“On that note, how many know that your expert is a Firestarter?” Markov said carefully, raising his hands at three sharp glances – Kir winced instead. “I am only saying, revolution last winter or no, the first reaction to seeing a Firestarter show up after a child violently starts demonstrating a Talent like that is probably _not_ going to be a relieved welcome and that’s _with_ three days to get used to the idea.”

“Fair point,” Anur said grudgingly, Devek the one to wince this time.

“My parents and sister know that the chaplain for my former unit is a Firestarter, and that I trust him, but I don’t know that they know Father Kir’s name – or even that when I mentioned an expert I meant him, though I don’t know who else they could think I meant, especially since I rode north,” he explained and Kir grimaced.

“With how much chaos is probably going around? I doubt they’d really think that through beyond relief, and even if they did, I doubt they’d be able to convince the family of the girl in question that a Firestarter showing up is a good idea.”

“But you can help?” Devek asked, his own worry finally showing through, “I honestly had no idea who else to contact and I was coming north anyway for my transfer – I just assumed with you two having mindspeech _someone_ would be able to help her.”

“Worst come, Aelius can shield her long enough for us to figure out a way to lock it down,” Anur assured him, Kir looking suddenly thoughtful but not saying anything. “Pack for a hard ride then? Come to think of it, don’t we need to be heading to Sunhame soon anyway?”

“Within the week,” Kir agreed, “Might as well just start that way now – Markov?”

“If I won’t slow you down,” the other priest agreed, Henri scoffing aloud and Devek grinning wryly.

“That’s rather inevitable; I have to provide introductions,” the soldier said, “So they can’t leave us entirely in the dust. I’ll see if I can get a replacement horse from the hostler though, my two are dead tired.”

“We’ll ride out in a mark at the latest,” Kir announced, grabbing Henri by the elbow as he passed and steered the younger man away, the two quickly involved in an intent discussion. Probably on how to contact them if it turned out that more Furies showed up even with that anchor destroyed.

 _:I’ll pack for both of us,:_ he sent, finally exchanging quick greetings with Devek before heading for their quarters.

 _:Thank you Anur,:_ Kir sent back absently, _:Pack extra string, will you?:_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to share how this chapter came about - after the latest anthology this winter, I realized a segue into the next story arc would a priest coming back to Karse after hearing rumors of Solaris. I named this anonymous priest Mikov and decided he'd been in Valdemar and would help start the ball rolling on getting the priesthood to think of Valdemarans as people.
> 
> I mis-typed Mikov as Markov, caught myself, and gave a joking little laugh, "Haha - Markov's a good name, but too similar to Anur's uncle, it'd be an easy mix-up to... make... AQEHIQAETUAQGUIRAHFGHUGASUI!"
> 
> Then I reread everything I'd written with Marcus' character and HOT DAMN IT FITS! I love these characters so much!!!


	27. Talents and Anchors

The temple gardens were hardly the worst place to stick an out of control witch-power, Kir mused, passing the well and heading along the path Devek’s niece had described. Anur and he didn’t need that description though – the spiking pressure against their mental shields was clue enough they were drawing closer.

_:I’m amazed no one in_ Valdemar _can hear her,:_ Anur grumbled, rubbing his temples, _:I am going to need enough headache tea to drown in after this.:_

_:I think you’ll have to split it with her.:_

_:Ugh.:_

_:Do you think it’ll work for Companions?:_ Aelius asked hopefully, _:She’s hitting new octaves of – oh ow, ow my poor brain…:_

Kir steadied Anur when he stumbled over nothing and carefully expanded his shields to include Anur more thoroughly. “Might be best for you to stay here,” Kir suggested, at least some of the tension leaving Anur’s frame.

“Going to at least make it within sight,” Anur grumbled, eyes still tighter than the glare of the afternoon sun would call for, “Come on, Kir, let’s get that shield necklace on her. Sunlord I hope that helps.”

“If it doesn’t we’re going to have to call Kari, I can’t make stronger in any decent amount of time,” Kir replied, running his thumb over the cord wrapped Sun-in-Glory he’d been working on on the ride out here. He hadn’t needed to wrap his mind with anchored shields in years, but it had taken time for him to work out how to keep sufficiently strong shields around his mind waking and sleeping and he’d never forgotten how to build those anchors.

He carried one around his neck, after all.

Etching runes into the metal Sun-in-Glory disc had been enough to enhance his own mental shields when he’d needed the help but to build shields from scratch for a stranger – he’d had to add to it. String magic had only ever been a hobby, but if there was one thing he could do with it, it was strengthen and build on already present spells with knots and braids of cord. Figuring out the pattern had taken most of the ride here, he’d only managed to tie the final knots around the disc and braid the ends through the wooden chain he’d taken from Anur’s stash when they passed through the town walls.

Devek’s niece had immediately intercepted them, having apparently been lying in wait for her uncle to return with help, and between hurried greetings and bows of respect and babbled summaries of what sort of progress had been made, they’d been able to pass the horses off to Devek and Markov and head straight for the girl in question. The local priest’s shields had helped, from what Anya said, but required frequent rebuilding and didn’t do any good if people got too close to her friend. As it was the priest was the only one able to get within a few feet of her without causing her pain, and even that he could apparently only manage after building his personal shields up for nearly a mark.

Judging by the pressure on their own shields, they’d be able to do better, but only because their shields were meant for this purpose – Father Olerus was undoubtedly calling on half-remembered lessons to defend against coercion and scrying spells and then trying to rework them to suit. Not ideal, in any way.

Rounding a low hedge he paused, briefly examining the etchings Olerus had used to anchor his shields before turning his attention to the girl in question.

She looked ill, of course. Dark rings under her eyes and hands verging on trembling, murmuring prayers under her breath but interrupted with asides responding to words only she could hear – no, the girl did not look well. Days without sound sleep and what she did get spent outside in the temple gardens, interrupted by nightmares and dreams not her own? He wouldn’t be surprised if she actually did become ill after this, her body was suffering just as badly as her mind. Some enterprising individual had given her material for whittling and she’d been at it for some time, if the stack of buttons on the ground in front of her was any indication.

It didn’t take more than a glance at Anur for the Herald to nod agreement and take a step back, a meaningless gesture when it came to how loud his presence would be, but she at least wouldn’t feel physically crowded.

Taking a moment to reinforce his own shielding with willpower and fire, he forced a pained grimace from his face and stepped into the shielded circle.

She didn’t so much as glance at him, but Kir wasn’t surprised. With her mind in such overdrive, she probably was barely aware of the knife in her hands, much less the physical world around her. She was relying on her out of control talent to warn her when people were about, and telling the difference between a shielded mind and no mind at all took practice.

Crouching in front of the bench she was seated on, he reached out and rested a hand on hers – the one holding the knife, he didn’t fancy getting stabbed when she registered there was another person so close to her.

A sharp inhale, and brown eyes shot from his hand to his face and she paled, knife and wooden block falling from her fingers. “You’re quiet,” she whispered, before flinching suddenly as the pressure on his shields spiked. She must have instinctively reached for him and only found the people outside the garden became louder – but that flinch drew her eyes to Anur and he could practically see the hope start to build, “He’s quiet too.”

“Indeed,” Kir said calmly, holding out his knotwork bound Sun-in-Glory to her, “And my hope is that this will shield your mind for long enough we can teach you to be quiet.”

“I’m loud?” she asked blankly, before shaking it off and shuddering as she met Kir’s eyes again, muttering, “Of course I’m loud, it’s the only way I can hear myself – ma stop _crying_ hysterics won’t help anyone!”

“Ah – that would probably be our fault,” Anur said ruefully, Kir not quite able to respond to a snapped command to a woman he’d never seen and was nowhere near. There was growing used to hearing mental voices not his own, understanding that there was nothing truly wicked in Talents, and there was treating them as a matter of course.

They would do it, they had to. But it would take time.

“Your fault?” she asked, swaying slightly on the bench and Kir didn’t bother waiting any longer, taking the cord-threaded chain and looping it around her neck, the knot-and-rune anchored spells flaring against his senses as the working activated.

She acted like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her head, jolting upright and eyes widening, “They’re gone,” she whispered, “The voices are gone.”

“Not permanently,” Kir reminded her, standing, “That’s just to hold your mind from others until we can teach you to do it yourself – and Ari’s sake, don’t take that off.”

“Never,” she swore, hand pressing the medallion to her chest, an exhausted joy in her eyes, “Thank you, Your Holiness – oh dear. That would explain ma’s hysterics.”

Kir’s lips twitched at her utterly matter-of-fact tone, her eyes locked on the gold-lined black edging his robes and he couldn’t help but respond in kind, saying blandly, “Yes, well. Takes one to catch one and all that.”

Anur barked a laugh and the girl, much to his surprise, hid a giggle behind her hand, looking up to meet his eyes again and saying, “I think Anya mentioned you – or at least her uncle did – but I don’t remember how. I’m Cora Varus.”

“Kir Dinesh, Firestarter of the First Order, Chaplain of the 62nd,” Kir replied, “And this is my Enforcer, Lieutenant Anur Bellamy.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Holiness,” she said, swaying when she stood and Kir quickly steadied her, not commenting on the near white-knuckled grip she had on his sleeve. Anur came up on her other side, saying, “Anywhere in particular we’re heading, or were you just tired of this same bench?”

“Thought I’d find my parents,” Cora said faintly, still swaying slightly and Kir grimaced, she was going to be in no shape to learn mental shielding for a day or two, if that.

“Well you certainly need food and sleep before we can teach anything,” Anur agreed, “Parents are probably the best source of that right now, but I think we can safely assume they’re rushing here – “

“Cora!” a woman with Cora’s hair and build had reached the well and froze, hand rising to her mouth and Kir could practically see the rush of panic the mother was fighting off at the sight of witch-hunters holding her daughter.

“Oh I’m so glad I can’t hear her right now,” Cora murmured, wincing, “Ah – Your Holiness? Could you help me get to her?”

“Certainly,” Kir agreed, Anur taking her other elbow and between the two of them, they were able to keep Cora upright long enough to walk her towards her mother. They didn’t have to make it the entire way, as once they’d gotten more than a few steps her mother had regained enough composure to rush towards them.

Even with that frantic worry, the woman paused a few steps from them and offered a deep bow, saying hurriedly, “Your Holiness, Enforcer, thank you – Cora!” before reaching forward and hauling her daughter into her arms, burying her face in her hair and not quite able to stop her quarter-turn to keep Cora’s back from facing him. Kir couldn’t blame her, and was honestly more than impressed that she’d managed to approach without spitting curses or shying away in terror.

_:We’ll have to wait until tomorrow at the earliest before we can teach her anything – on that note, what are we teaching her?:_ Anur asked, taking a step back from the now crying pair and Kir was quick to follow his lead. Hopefully the father would show up – if he was around, granted – or even better, the local priest. He needed to find out where the nearest traveler’s chapel was and make sure Olerus wasn’t going to get in the way of Cora’s instruction.

_:Shielding,:_ Kir said, raising an eyebrow in Anur’s direction but Anur just returned the gesture.

_:That’s it? No how to call for help, here’s how to avoid crippling anyone else when you panic, here’s how to recognize signs in others – just shielding?:_

_:If she wants to learn more she can come to Sunhame,:_ Kir said, suppressing the urge to shrug, _:Shielding is enough for her to make her own choices going forward.:_

_:What if she doesn’t want to be a priestess?:_ Anur pointed out, _:Is there any option for people like that?:_

_:…not currently. I suppose we’ll have to raise that with Solaris too.:_

_:Too? Markov’s anchored curses, and this, right?:_

_:And Herald Lenora, the Midsummer deadline with the Lord Marshal, Furies still showing up despite her banishing them from the country, the warding on the catacombs coming due, the mercenaries scheduled to show up soon, getting Etrius training to find secret caches in the archives, Anika’s Oasis nearly being cleared, the Hardornen border cleansing still holding – it’s been a busy six weeks, Anur.:_

Anur had pinched the bridge of his nose the moment Kir got to the Furies, muttering curses under his breath as he realized just how much had happened in the past six weeks. Certainly, their meetings with Solaris often took an entire afternoon, but the past couple of times that had been more due to them enjoying each others’ company than actually having that much material to cover. Depending on what crises had come up in Sunhame while they were gone, their next meeting could very well last all day.

“Ah – Father Kir?” Koshiro’s expression could only be described as bemused, looking between the two of them as he walked up, “Markov says there’s another anchor. And apparently he and Father Olerus have a history of threatening each other with evisceration.”

“What,” they both said flatly.

_:So,:_ Aelius said delicately, _:About Jkatha…:_

_***===***_ pagebreak***===***

“I think the most impressive thing – _move! –_ is that you infuriated people enough to invest _decades_ of work into these curses with no guarantee of payoff – Koshiro! Three steps in!” Kir barked, the soldier immediately taking three steps back into their cleared circle and fire flared as the Furies tried to press through Kir’s barrier.

“How could you have possibly inspired this much hatred?” he concluded, sweat shimmering on his face, the flames protecting them pulsing white-hot whenever a Fury drew near enough to dispel entirely.

“I have a gift!” Markov panted, sparks of power around his fingers and Anur kept him in the corner of his gaze while he and Devek dug for the anchor that was causing this mess. Kir he could sense, could feel roaring against his mind with all the deadly fury of a forest fire, but Markov he could only see, and his uncle’s hands were shaking.

“I wanted mindspeech to come back,” Devek was muttering to himself, flinching whenever a Fury gave a particularly ear-piercing shriek, or a few of them gave that hair-raising chitter at once, “I wanted mindspeech to come back, maybe Cora can join the Sunsguard one day and relay messages – maybe she can just work for me someday, think positive. Going to ask Father Kir for help was a good idea. I wanted mindspeech to come back.”

_:Poor man, this is the second time helping you two has gotten him traumatized – actually, counting witnessing the bishra, third time,:_ Aelius said wryly, watching the situation through Anur’s eyes since he was at the traveler’s chapel with the other horses, keeping them from wandering off.

To think, he’d been hoping for a night of solid rest before helping Cora build her shields. Dragging her back under control was going to take some doing, so being well-rested for the process would be nice and Anur had hopes once, especially once he realized how exhausted _Cora_ was. She needed rest, they needed rest – it worked out perfectly.

Those hopes had shriveled when Markov stormed up and announced that another anchor had latched onto him the moment his boot touched soil. At least if he stayed mounted they wouldn’t trigger, otherwise they’d have had to backtrack and make sure no other curses had been woken as they passed.

_:A second anchor,:_ he griped, tossing another shovel full of dirt over his shoulder and ignoring Devek’s mantra for the moment, _:I don’t care how gifted Markov is at making people hate him, this is excessive – and why_ here _? We’re at least two days’ ride from any border, and that’s with keeping a decent pace and knowing the lay of the land. If Markov were returning he wouldn’t be moving this fast, not unless he had a goal, and even then, he’d probably have gotten caught in the first anchor – did they think he would beat it and be lulled into a false sense of security?:_

_:I doubt it, Kir is enough to hold back this swarm, but he wouldn’t be able to destroy an anchor at the same time, any sort of method for surviving this thing would require a pair at the least… that is a very good set of points, Chosen – and raises another one. Why stop at two?:_

_:Oh you have got to be – Kir!:_

_:Found the anchor?:_ Kir asked, hope spiking in his voice and Anur wanted to wince, sending back a sense of regret before he passed on Aelius’ point.

_:No, worse – why stop at two?:_

“Sunlord save us from the schemes of power-hungry hateful _witch-spawned wretches may you freeze eternally!_ ” Kir shouted, flames roaring to new heights and his mental call echoed even louder - _:KARI!:_

_:Mmm… yes? Eldest? Is something the – a Fury swarm! Witach’s screams, you get into absurd situations - :_

_:I probably should have thought of that first,:_ Anur said ruefully, Kir’s mental reply more reminiscent of the snarls and crackles of a brush-fire than anything coherent. As much as Anur had been looking forward to a full night’s sleep, Kir probably needed it more than he did – it was fortunate they’d been able to get the shield necklace to Cora before running into this. Neither of them were going to be in any condition to help her much tomorrow.

_:You mean later today,:_ Aelius pointed out dryly.

_:I don’t regret my life choices, but I might regret Markov’s.:_

_:I regret Markov’s. I think Markov regrets Markov’s at this point.:_

_:Regrets whatever he did to make them hate him this much? I doubt it – regret coming back to Karse maybe, that hasn’t worked out well for him so far - :_

“Found it!” Devek yelped, Anur immediately leaping back and hauling the other soldier out of the way of the now animated anchor – the first one he’d been able to ignore what it probably was, focusing on the Furies, on the man he knew as uncle, on the fact that Kir was finally beside him – but this time…

There were at least three different skulls that made up the bone fragments roiling in the stench-ridden blackness that was slowly pulsing out of the ground, and he couldn’t help but remember Kir’s words on death magic – it made for discerning barrier wards, potentially useful against Ancar’s soldiers and not just Witach’s Brood.

Discerning barriers and discerning traps, it seemed.

“Enough!” a voice like bells, like gongs and chimes and summer heat drove Anur to his knees, gasping as golden power bound the necromantic anchor and turned the Furies to silent, writhing shadows, not even fully dark against that undeniable Light.

Vision clearing as his eyes grew accustomed to the lighting, Anur blinked away blurry afterimages and was utterly unsurprised to see Solaris, two Firecats at her feet and the Crown of Vkandis on her brow, eyes blazing gold.

_:Aelius, what pronouns do I use when Solaris is speaking as Vkandis’ voice?:_

_:Royal we?:_

“Begone from Karse, wretched planar beasts,” They spoke directly to the Furies, Anur taking the chance to look over for Kir and feeling something in his chest ease when he was able to visually confirm that Kir was fine – was looking _relieved_ to have received divine aid when he asked for help.

He was getting so much better.

Markov was kneeling as well, of course, Anur doubted anyone could have remained standing with that much _power_ bearing down in one word, staring at Solaris with naked wonder, tears running down his face.

“ _You always hated Karse.”_

“ _Never Karse. Always Sunhame.”_

Anur was still angry, was still hurt, that his uncle had promised to trust his judgment and had cast it aside the moment Kir entered the picture. But he had seen so many people who’d lost all hope in their country, in their faith, ever being true and good again – and the thought that his uncle had been one of them, living in the land of his enemies for decades and _hating_ those who’d driven him off for every second of it but not thinking it would ever get better, resigned to what his country and religion had become –

It was sad. It reminded him of Kir.

“These anchors are abominations, binding unwilling blood and will and _soul_ as fuel. One who made them yet lives – no more!” Their voice boomed, an echo of far-off thunder in those last words, golden eyes blazing ever brighter as Furies disappeared, as the anchor dissolved, three bright flares leaving spots in Anur’s eyes when it finally vanished entirely.

“Be at peace,” he murmured, hearing Kir’s voice echoing his own and knew the faint Sun-disk afterimage was more than his imagination.

“We declare these anchors dissolved. We declare their makers forsaken. We declare Furies _banished_ and these Words are backed with Fire. You did well calling for Us, child. The land has been cleansed.”

The golden light faded from Solaris’ eyes and the presence bearing down on them shifted, from implacable to purely impressive. Her nostrils’ flared as she took the crown from her head, the golden piece vanishing in a curl of flame to undoubtedly appear in her quarters against its next use. “Well,” she said grimly, “That was a nasty bit of magic. How did you stumble upon it, brother?”

“Markov here is returning from decades of exile in Valdemar,” Kir said, levering himself to his feet and Anur quickly rising and heading over to him, bracing Kir’s elbow when he swayed. Devek quickly appeared at Kir’s other side and Anur nodded thanks – all things considered, him supporting Kir would be something of a blind leading the blind situation soon enough.

Solaris raised an eyebrow and looked to Markov, still kneeling and gazing at her with awe, before smiling slightly and walking forward, holding out her hands and pulling him to his feet.

“Then, Brother, welcome home, though I suspect the welcome was warmer than you anticipated,” she said, smile growing at Markov’s inadvertent snort.

The man stepped back and bowed deeply to her, saying quietly, “I never thought I would be able to say it is a joy to return, Your Most Holy.”

“I do not insist on formality, Eminence is more than enough should you feel the need. Besides, it seems you are kinsman to my brother’s brother, and in that we are family,” Solaris said, looking between Markov and Anur before looking to Kir and frowning as she swept forward, hands out to take Kir’s in her own, “And what have you been up to, brother? You look terrible.”

“Only terrible?” Kir scoffed, a wry smile on his face, “Exhaustion sister, simply tiredness.”

“From two anchors?” Solaris asked, raising an eyebrow and Anur couldn’t help but snicker. She turned to look between them and finally sighed, speaking to Devek when she said, “It’s not just two anchors, is it Captain? Congratulations on the promotion, by the way.”

“Thank you, Your Eminence,” Koshiro bowed slightly, “And I wouldn’t know – I’ve only been traveling with them the past few days, seeking aid for my niece’s friend – she’s woken mindspeech, and it had gone… rather wrong.”

“As it is we’re not going to be in any shape to help her build her own shields tomorrow,” Kir said tiredly.

Anur wasn’t quite able to keep from chuckling as he repeated what Aelius had told him, “You mean later today.”

“Hmm. Do you have anything that might shield her until you recover your strength?” she asked.

“Yes – she already has it – but we didn’t have time to do more than arrange for her to meet us in the traveler’s chapel tomorrow morning – this morning – in a few marks, whenever a few marks past sunrise hits. I don’t suppose my signature on that working will be enough for you to track, Kari?” Kir asked, shoulders slumping and Anur grimaced.

She had been screaming _very_ loudly, and had been able to hear her entire village. It was entirely possible, even likely, that Kir’s shield necklace would break down earlier than expected. To go from that deafening loudness to silence and back again without warning? It would be difficult to bring her back from that.

_:It should be enough, Eldest.:_

“I can also head back to town tonight rather than in the morning,” Devek offered, Kari nodding to the soldier in thanks.

“I don’t believe that will be necessary,” Solaris said thoughtfully, a spark of gold reappearing in her eyes as she bent to whisper in Kari’s ear, the Cat bowing his head before vanishing in a curl of flame. Straightening, Solaris smiled and said, “Well. That is a good night’s work. Kari shall stay with her to ensure the shields hold until she reaches you, so take the time to get a decent amount of rest. You’ll do no good to anyone collapsing, and even less good if you look like you’re going to keel over in a stiff breeze.”

“I do not look that bad,” Kir grumbled, relief taking a weight of his shoulders and Anur was glad to see it. Maybe they would actually get some decent rest after this.

“Hm. Keep telling yourself that long enough and it might become true,” Solaris teased, nodding to Anur and Devek and turning away from them, “I will see you in Sunhame, brother. Try not to get attacked by more monsters on the way, but if you are – call me sooner. And Brother Markov – may I have your former rank, so I might find your records and ensure some friendly faces are in Sunhame upon your arrival?”

“I was called Markov, Second Order Black-robe, circuit judge and healer,” the man said, bowing again and clearly startled at Solaris’ laugh of delight.

“A healer! How wonderful – I look forward to luring you home,” she smiled, acknowledging his final bow with a nod of her head and catching Hansa in her arms, vanishing in a curl of fire.

The silence was nearly deafening, and Anur jumped when Markov broke it with near hysterical laughter, the man beaming through tears as their eyes met, saying, “She’s _real_.”

Kir gave his own quiet laugh, stepping forward to grab Markov’s shoulder and murmur, “She’s real, Markov.”

Markov’s words had never hurt Kir, Anur had known that for a while, but had clung to that falsehood to avoid thinking about how badly Markov’s old words had hurt him. False hurt, true hurt – neither of them mattered, not truly. His uncle had been hurting for decades, and he had thrown oil on a candle when he dragged Kir home with no warning as to just who he was bringing with him. The fact that only Markov had reacted badly was impressive, was near a miracle.

He didn’t want to be angry at his uncle anymore.

_:You are kind, Chosen. Your heart is too big for its own good, some days,:_ Aelius said.

_:But it got me Kir.:_

_:But it got you Kir. Riva and I are on our way, since you left us saddled. The other two will stay for long enough for us to get you back to the chapel. You need sleep, Chosen.:_

_:Maybe I can sleep past dawn this time!:_

***===***pagebreak***===***

“So how long was that shield _supposed_ to hold?” Anur asked, stretching his legs out and basking in the late morning sun.

Kir was quite comfortable stretched out on a pew and was in the middle of a particularly finicky bit of knotwork, so he didn’t even look up from his string when he replied, “It’s designed to hold for a couple of days without being fueled – but it was designed for my level of mindspeech, she sounded much stronger.”

“She certainly sounded _louder_ ,” Anur scoffed, shaking his head, “No, fair point. We were hearing her through my best shields and that was _with_ us tandem shielding.”

“Poor girl was trying to drown the other voices,” Kir said with a weary sympathy. He had been fortunate, in that he only picked up on strange thoughts when he focused, and even then the person in question had to have some sort of Talent themselves. It hadn’t felt that way often, true, particularly given the likelihood of setting those individuals on fire, but he had been fortunate nonetheless.

_:There’s a cheerful thought,:_ Aelius said dryly, _:Now for my question – have you ever taught someone mental shielding? How are you grounded?:_

_:How am I_ what _?:_ Kir asked, not even pausing at the switch in mediums but his fingers stilled on the strings – this question, he suspected, was important. Especially with Cora due to arrive whenever Devek and Markov reached town – Kari had already agreed to bring her to them and then once her shields were settled they’d escort her home.

Hopefully Markov and Olerus wouldn’t actually eviscerate each other in the meantime.

_:Well that answers that question,:_ Anur replied, sounding faintly amused and more worried, _:Were you trained in mental shielding at all or was it something you picked up on the side?:_

_:I took mage-shielding principles and altered them, but never got specific instruction in this Talent,:_ Kir shrugged, shifting to sit upright, _:to be frank, I was trained in mage-craft exclusively, my knack for flames was not seen as a witch-power in and of itself, and I didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself than I already had by being selected so early.:_

_:That explains a lot,:_ Aelius snorted, _:I knew your shielding was different, just by all the fire imagery that comes along with it, but I didn’t realize it had entirely different origins. Though that doesn’t help the current problem, because I took a look at her while you lot were plotting – she doesn’t have any talent for mage-craft. She’s mindspeech, through and through, with a touch of empathy but probably not enough to do anything with besides having an easier time interpreting mental tones of voice.:_

_:Sounds like I’m going to have to teach her then,:_ Anur said, Kir grimacing but not seeing another way around it. The girl had to be taught, and while he’d probably be able to muddle through and teach her something that worked, Anur was close to an expert.

_:It’s a risk,:_ he felt compelled to point out, not that any of them had forgotten it.

_:I know, but – well. We have less than a year before this charade will be over, one way or another, and we have to start laying the groundwork sometime. Markov will help with that, if he announces to all and sundry that he sheltered in Valdemar for decades, but that will mostly be heard by the priesthood, we need cues scattered amongst the lay-people too.:_

_:I also don’t see much choice,:_ Aelius admitted, _:It might be best to treat this much as you did the 62nd – sealing the conspiracy, in a way.:_

_:So long as she doesn’t figure you out, witch-horse, Anur being a Herald will stay under wraps. Hells, so long as we don’t answer any questions about how he got taught, she may very well just assume he’s a better teacher – we can even state that my shields are in a style she can’t imitate, Anur’s would be better – leave any question of how he managed to build shields to the wind.:_

_:Point. Shall we use that plan then and modify as necessary?:_

_:Hopefully no modifications_ are _necessary, but agreed.:_

_:Eldest, we’re on our way,:_ Kari’s voice cut through their conversation and Kir quickly secured his knotwork from unraveling and tucked it away, sitting up and chuckling at Anur’s grumbles as the Herald got to his feet.

Kari evidently decided to have them arrive outside, Kir sensing the sudden unfurling of flame – he was going to have to ask Kari to experiment with him because it didn’t quite match the feeling of sudden flames – there was no natural build-up, true, but other Firestarters’ could manage that. This was something entirely different and if he had to guess, it would be due to the fact Kari was doing more than just summoning fire.

It would be interesting if he could figure out just what the difference was.

Opening the door to the temple, he smiled slightly and said, “Cora Varus. You’re looking better.”

“I feel better,” she smiled, Kari jumping up to sprawl on a pew as she walked in, “Thank you, Your Holiness, Lieutenant Enforcer.”

“We’re going to be working on this for a while, Anur is more than sufficient,” Anur said wryly, “My title is a bit of a mouthful – at least Sunpriests have a shorter one as their usual.”

“Yes, but how many actually call me Father Kir to my face without me asking them to?” Kir pointed out, taking a seat again and waving for Cora to sit. She did, hands clasped on her lap and she looked between the two of them before saying, “I can hear a sort of – humming. As if I were in the fields on market-day.”

“Hmm. Shield-necklace is breaking down then,” Kir said, “Expected, really. Your Talent is much stronger than what the shield was designed for.”

“What was it designed for?” she asked hesitantly.

“Who, rather. Me. I’ve never heard those without some Talent of their own – but even those voices are too much,” Kir shuddered at the memories, not bothering to suppress it because Cora needed to see she wasn’t alone in this, needed to _know_ that others had suffered that deafening, overwhelming surge of voices in what had been silence.

“So mine is worse,” Cora grimaced.

“Or better, depending on point of view – stronger, would be more accurate,” Anur corrected, taking his own seat and clapping his hands together, “Now. Kir’s shields are – very fire-based, anchored in things you don’t have. So that leaves me to teach you proper shielding. The basics aren’t bad, the long part is in making it habit, so you can keep shields waking and sleeping, no matter the environment. Frankly, I’d recommend avoiding market days for a moon until you’re certain your shields can hold – any larger settlements? I’d recommend a few moons, and that would be pushing it.”

_:Probably more careful than necessary, but with no one in the area to help her if something goes wrong, better overly cautious than hearing later she’d gone mad from shattered shields,:_ Anur explained privately.

“Right,” Cora shuddered before nodding, “I’ll be careful.”

“Good,” Anur said seriously, “Now, I need you to take that necklace off.”

Cora paled, hand pressing against the medallion and she took a shaky breath, saying, “So I learn to shield without it?”

“Exactly,” he replied, shrugging as he continued, “Also gives Kir a chance to strengthen it, see if he can alter it any to help protect you around your own shields without us being here all the time to power it.”

Cora exhaled slowly before nodding and taking the necklace off, cringing preemptively but relaxing as she handed the medallion to Kir. “You’re still quiet,” she said, clearly relieved, “There’s a buzzing – it’s louder, but I can’t – I can’t hear any words.”

“Good,” Anur smiled, “That will make this a little easier. One benefit of mindspeech versus other witch-po – Talents, sorry, Talents, is that it’s pretty easy to distinguish between yourself and others – you were able to identify who voices belonged to, when you heard them and not buzzing?”

Cora nodded thoughtfully and he continued, “Right – you also have some empathy, that’s why you were picking up dreams, most likely. Dreams aren’t really coherent enough to be thoughts, most of the time. That’s a little trickier, but basing your shielding around mindspeech first should make it easier to keep you from leaving any piece of yourself out or sealing a piece of someone else in.”

“That sounds terrible,” Kir said, as fascinated as Cora was at this explanation.

“There are some pretty horrifying stories of what can happen if you mess that part up – which is why _I_ suggested Devek and Markov leaving for this, at least. Less pressure against your mind and no unshielded minds to get snagged in the process,” Anur switched back to talking to Cora with the last and the girl nodded again, clearly deep in thought.

“So the first step is to do just that – find _your_ center. Ready to try? I’ll be talking you through it, but I want to make sure you’re good to start.”

It took a few moments before Cora finally looked up and met his eyes, nodding firmly and straightening her back, “I’m ready.”

“Okay. Close your eyes, and just – listen, to yourself,” Anur’s voice altered cadence, shifting to a lower than usual pitch and he was nearly murmuring as he continued, “Pick through what you can hear, what you can feel. Is it you? Bring it in, and put it away. Is it other? Discard it, throw it out. Find the next thing, recognize whose it is – keep sorting, register what is yours, and find that stable place, that piece that gives you a view of all your self, lets you hear and feel all that is _yours_ and stand there.”

Kir could feel his mind quieting as Anur spoke, unable to stop himself from following those same instructions but just as unable to discard all that wasn’t him – because so much of what he found was Anur. There was the constant hum of his presence within arms reach, and that piece ringing of conviction and laughter and strength was what he braced himself against when Karse was too much, when what he had done was too much. A faint thread of muted power, a trickle of what was behind it, gave Aelius a foothold in his own mind, but a rush of wind was Anur’s presence separating the two of them even as Aelius and he spoke freely. An echo of chimes told him Anur was listening, always, even as he focused on Cora’s efforts - 

And wrapping everything was golden-orange fire.

“There you go,” Anur said, a sense of warm amusement rolling over him like a surge of water and retreating again, leaving faint traces behind to fade more slowly. “Both of you have it. Just as there’s a center in yourself, there’s an echo in the world. Reach out – carefully, don’t unbalance yourself – and find it – and anchor.”

Kir knew exactly what Anur meant, and did not hesitate to reach for that bright, buzzing core that everything held, no matter how muted and he let himself settle into it as he hadn’t for years. It was loud, it was deafening, but the same way a hail-storm rolling over was loud against the roof, the same way the howling wind battering the windows was deafening – he was safe, centered in himself and in his brother and in the heart of the world’s fires.

Opening his eyes, wondering when he had closed them, he blinked for a moment before realizing the fire he saw wasn’t afterimages. Anur was watching him with unashamed fondness and Kir smiled, feeling the gold and red and yellow and orange sparks and licks of flame dance around him. The last time he’d felt so safe, so wrapped in fire and  _home_ , he’d been undergoing the First Order trial, and he’d despaired of ever finding that feeling again.

He couldn’t wait to teach Rodri this.

Kir let the flames fade away, still able to hold that feeling of  _belonging_ around him for the moment and he looked over at Cora, unsurprised to find her expression slightly puzzled and her energy signature flaring and subsiding as she searched for that anchoring. He had known exactly where in the world his stable point was, had found it when the world split open on him and showed the heart of fire hiding within everything, but without that sort of experience finding the anchor point in a whole world would be more challenging.

“Almost there,” Anur murmured, focus returning again to Cora, “Don’t shift much further – there!”

He didn’t need Anur’s declaration and from the beaming smile on Cora’s face neither did she. He hadn’t been monitoring her energy signature all that closely, but he felt like he could almost  _hear_ the shift as everything she was snapped into place. “This is amazing,” she said, sounding positively blissful, “Is this what having Talents is supposed to feel like?”

“You don’t actually need a Talent for this, it just makes the feeling more dramatic,” Anur shrugged, a wry smile on his face, “Not many non-Talented probably learn it, it’s not called for much, which is a shame. The Talent part comes next – you have a solid place to build, anchored in yourself and in the world, so we build a shield. Before we get to that though – I want you to step back, and center-anchor again. It needs to be reflex, because this takes time to be able to hold constantly, and even with practice you can still slip out of place. Being able to reset is valuable.”

“Right,” Cora nodded firmly, opening her eyes. “Can you talk me through it again? Just once more?”

“As many times as it takes,” Anur agreed, and they started again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bwahaha the chapter is finished! At last! There were a lot of versions running around - couple more chapters to go and we're on to the Reunion Arc (which is my mental title for the Kir-meets-his-family arc - calling for title help, please!) Hope you enjoyed - the mental shielding segment was heavily based on the Kris and Talia training sequence in Arrow's Flight. Hopefully we'll explore more how Kir's use of his Talent and shielding was different from Anur's and benefits/costs of each type, just because technical headcanon details make me happy :)


	28. Firestarters Redefined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if you thought SERAS was bad...
> 
> Warnings: Markov also turned out to be pretty terrifying. Like - really terrifying.

_:Well that took far less time than I expected!:_ Kari commented cheerfully, a warm pressure against Kir’s back as they rode back to Cora’s hometown. She was perched sideways on Aelius, holding onto the back of his saddle with one hand and Anur’s shirt with another. They could have sent her back with Kari, but when they’d asked which she’d prefer, she said riding.

Kari’s method of travel was a little nauseating after all. 

_:Agreed,:_ Aelius replied, tossing his head lightly.  _:She’s an exceptionally quick study.:_

_:How long does it usually take?:_ Kir asked curiously, glancing at Anur briefly but the Herald was humming to himself, for all the world acting as though there was nothing going through his mind other than enjoying the pleasant evening. He was far better at pretending there were no mental voices in his mind than Kir was, simply in his nonchalance at the entire process. Kir could keep himself from giving away a conversation with micro-expressions, but he had to look bland and calm the entire time. Anur was entirely able to have a mental conversation while carrying on a staring contest with a cat.

He’d seen it done. Anur had lost, but that was more due to having the contest with a cat than in the mental conversation distracting him.

_:Well, we study our Gifts and such for around a year, on average. That’s to get control, consider ethical issues, practice range, see what our limits are – then we’re turned loose and expected to make any further progress on our own. I could probably center and anchor reliably within a couple of days, have consistent shields in a week or so, but I also wasn’t spending marks focused on it alone, perhaps one or two a day.:_

_:That’s it? How could you_ last _that long without proper shields?:_ Kir asked, aghast. Cora had very nearly been driven mad by th e population of a village , to have had her Talent activate in a  _city_ , surrounded by people with Talents of their own making them louder – she would never have lasted.

_:For one thing, that’s what Companions are for,:_ Aelius pointed out,  _:For another, Anur’s Gift was gradual, it didn’t suddenly burst into being, and we caught it early, allowing him to build his shields while his Gift was weak and the consequences of failure weren’t terrible or traumatizing.:_

_:Are there any Gifted in Valdemar who aren’t Heralds?:_

_:Oh sure, Bards and Healers and some Blues, I think.:_

_:...anyone not sworn to the Crown?:_

_:Uh… probably?:_

_:Yes,:_ Aelius responded, ears flattening briefly before flicking forward again,  _:Those with powerful Gifts are Chosen to keep them from hurting themselves or others, or are at least shuffled into a place where they can get help. Those who just need some basics can learn from traveling Heralds or Healers or even Bards, much like we just did with Cora.:_

_:I didn’t know that could happen,:_ Anur said, tone surprised and the glance he shot Aelius reflected that,  _:Kind of silly, I suppose, to think everyone Gifted ever was sworn to the Crown, especially with the stories – anyway. Is that why all Heralds with more common Gifts are given basic teaching-shielding training?:_

_:Main reason, yes. Also, when you teach something, you learn it that much better,:_ Aelius replied.

“Father Kir?” Cora’s physical voice cut into their conversation.

“Yes, Cora?” he said mildly, guessing from her expression that this was the question she’d been trying to ask most of the day. After the basics of shielding had been explained and their afternoon had turned into a rigorous practice session, she had started casting curious glances his way only to look away the moment he caught her gaze.

It was much better to hold the eye-contact, give a smile or nod to indicate it was an accident and only then look away. Darting eyes never held restful thoughts.

She’d figure that out eventually. If she didn’t, it didn’t matter. No one was going to investigate her for burning, for having an out of place laugh o r telling her mother to stop having hysterics.

How long, he wondered, until even Firestarters forgot what behaviors to look for?

“What are your shields based on?” she asked, “If they’re not something I can do?”

Not the question she wanted to ask, Kir was certain. She surely had already guessed this answer, and sure enough, when he raised an eyebrow at her she winced, saying, “Fire, obviously. Foolish question.”

“Not foolish. Just not the one you wanted to ask,” Kir corrected.

“What did you hear first?” she finally burst, “I – I thought Anya was squealing about her uncle meeting Her Most Holy and when I asked what she was like Anya hadn’t said anything.”

Kir stilled, Riva slowing under him and Anur said sharply, “You don’t need to answer that!”

His brother’s hand appeared on his arm and Anur repeated, “You don’t need to answer that.”

His expression must have been horrifying, Cora was already apologizing, knuckles white  around Anur’s shirt and Kari was purring behind him, pressing harder against his back. But she deserved an answer – they all did, really. But Cora  _understood_ , in a way Anur  _couldn’t_ . He hadn’t lived knowing that a hint of strangeness could kill him, could ruin his family, could cast a pallor over his town. He hadn’t worried that every stray bit of oddness would be the last one to escape the priests’ eyes, that his sponsor would realize his fire wasn’t worth his witchiness, wasn’t worth his threat, and toss him to the flames.

Kir had never forgotten what it was like to live under that threat. He had never forgotten  those  days h e had woken up and decided he was tired of it all, was going to tell Verius what he heard when they burned witch-children, and would do his best to let the flames take him.

Something had always stopped him – a chance to divert attention from a child for one more year, Jaina claiming he was the only thing that kept her sane some days, Axeli clapping his shoulder and asking if they’d see him at the forge the next day because there was some detail work they could use him for – but he had never forgotten  that urge, that despair .

“I heard – screaming,” Kir said, hearing his own voice as if it were from a great distance, “It was a burning, you see. I just wanted the screaming to stop.”

He closed his eyes against the memories – Lukas, hands on his shoulders, his parents in front of him at the front of the crowd the careful gap surrounding them and Verius standing on the platform, triumphant at the coup he’d gain with this burning and before the fire even touched the pyre the terrible  _screaming_ \- 

His face was buried in Anur’s shoulder, Riva and Aelius’ flanks pressed against each other, Cora still whispering apologies he could barely hear over Anur’s murmured reassurances that it was over, that he would never have to face that again.

Taking a shuddering breath, he nodded against Anur’s neck and straightened in the saddle, Anur keeping one hand on his shoulder for the moment, clearly worried. “I’m all right,” Kir murmured,  Kari quieting but continuing to lean into him. Looking to Cora, he gave the pale-faced girl a faint smile and said, “I’ve been avoiding thinking about it for years, Cora. My apologies for frightening you.”

“What are you apologizing to _me_ for?” Cora demanded, eyes widening, “I owe _you_ apologies, Father, I should have – I should have at least _thought_ that it might not be so pleasant. It wasn’t – it wasn’t even a year ago that – that I’d have been one of the ones burning.”

“No,” Anur said fiercely, glancing over his shoulder at her, “Solaris’ coming has been in the works for _years_. None have burnt since she began her Ascent, not for witch-powers. Talents. I need to work on that.”

“Really?” Kir asked, memories finally subsiding for the moment at that revelation, “I hadn’t realized.”

“Well I hadn’t either, but I checked the records last time we were in Sunhame,” Anur shrugged, “It seemed something useful to know. Honestly, it would have been something I’d have held against her, if she hadn’t called on us to intervene in a witch-burning she knew about.”

_:We dealt with it,:_ Kari broadcast,  _:As in Firecats as a whole, not we as in Hansa and I personally, though we did do a few. After her Ascent began we arranged for flights or detours or simple misdiagnoses, enough to keep them from burning.:_

_:Your Cat of Fire was a novel solution, Eldest, but I would have answered, had you asked,:_ Kari said, this time his voice to Kir alone.  _:I might borrow that form for a shock-and-awe mechanism in the future though, I quite liked it.:_

Kir could feel the smile growing on his face and he nodded to his brother, catching Cora’s eye to include her in the gesture, “I accept your apology Cora, though hold it needless. And Anur – thank you for asking after that. It is – good to know.”

_:And thank you Kari,:_ he added as Cora hesitantly asked after what Sunhame was like, and if it was true that the Temple District was open for more than pilgrimages, Anur responding with renewed cheer, though  he shot concerned glances  Kir’s way  every so often  as the horses moved out again .  _:It never occurred to me to ask.:_

_:You called for me last night,:_ Kari replied calmly, rubbing his head between Kir’s shoulder blades.  _:So long as I breathe, I will always come when you call – unless I’m literally in the middle of saving someone’s life, but I’ll at least respond.:_

_:How often have you been saving someone’s life so urgently?:_

_:Well, two weeks ago, Rodri uttered the infamous words - :_

_:Oh no, not - :_

_:‘In my defense,’ he said, ‘I didn’t know that was flammable.’:_

_:Jaina is going to_ kill _me.:_

***===***pagebreak***===***

Kir safely ensconced with Devek, explaining just what the man was walking into as the new captain of the 54th, a mild form of dream-tea in hand, check. Aelius and Riva safely settled and content, also check. Cora off with her parents, hopefully catching up on sleep with Kir’s shield necklace around her neck, check.  Kari a warm lump at Kir’s side, under strict orders to maul or at least glare at anyone that looked at Kir sideways, check.

His uncle, sitting on a bench behind the stables and staring at the darkening sky, well out of anyone’s earshot so long as they didn’t shout – final check. Taking a settling breath, Anur rapped on the side of the building  before he could lose his nerve , holding up two mugs of tea and saying quietly, “We need to talk, uncle.”

The man’s eyes tightened, but he nodded and shifted over so Anur could sit beside him, accepting his mug of tea with murmured thanks. Taking a sniff of the steam, Markov chuckled, “Your father mentioned you’d become obsessed with spice-cake. I had to figure out the Valdemaran names for some of the spices you mentioned in the recipe. I used to love this tea.”

“I try to save it for when I need it,” Anur replied blandly, noting his uncle wince out of the corner of his gaze.

“Yes – I – I understand. I never thought I’d see – I didn’t think it was _possible_ – nephew, is getting Gifts under control so easy? So simple? An afternoon, that’s all it took, and Cora is – is functional, is fine,” Markov asked, head bowed and his eyes squeezed shut, “An _afternoon_.”

“Cora learned quickly,” Anur explained, “Can take a couple of days. It’s not _hard_ , shielding. It’s just tricky to anchor properly, to make sustainable. So it’s better to have instruction, to make sure whatever methods you use don’t sabotage you later on. Teaching yourself can go – very wrong.”

“But it doesn’t take years, to make a witch-power controllable. Doesn’t take decades,” Markov murmured.

“Depends on the Talent, and on what you mean by control,” Anur pointed out, “She’s shielded, she won’t suffer hearing others, but she wouldn’t be able to use her Talent with any precision. That takes time and practice.”

He hesitated, taking a sip of tea before looking  at the first few stars in the sky and a sking, “What did your sister have?”

Markov snorted, “I have no idea. I was eleven and far  too concerned with my own woes to pay much attention to a six year old girl who was always begging for ribbons we couldn’t afford. We’d saved up to buy her an embroidered hair ribbon for the Feast of the Children that year. It burned with her.”

“That’s very young,” Anur murmured, “It’s unusual for Talents to manifest that early – if they do – she would have been very strong.”

Pausing for another sip of tea, he sent his uncle a sidelong glance before saying, “Kir manifested his Firestarting Gift at seven.”

“Now there’s a way to put things in perspective,” Markov shuddered, “The idea of a seven year old boy – of any child – having fire at their beck and call is not an easy or comfortable one.”

“But Kir is different,” Anur said pointedly.

“I was wrong,” Markov admitted, meeting his gaze and looking so _tired_ before turning back to his tea. “It was wrong, what I did – what I said. Not _inaccurate_ , but – cruel. I should have trusted you, nephew, should have trusted your judgment in Dinesh as I did all else – especially after that Delilah girl had burned you so. You would have been careful, far more careful than you once were. I should have known that – I _did_ know that but when I saw what he was – realized who you’d brought home – I was _terrified_.”

Anur could hear the same creeping horror in his uncle’s voice that echoed in Kir’s voice when he spoke of screams, that Jakyr let slip when he mentioned  _bishra_ , that border people hissed when Furies were wandering.

The idea of Firestarters, of  _Kir,_ inspiring that same sort of monstrous terror was absurd to him. Seemed preposterous. But so many Karsites had shied away – would still shy away – at the sight of black-edged robes. So very  _many_ people thought of Firestarters as unreasoning monsters, as vicious, flame-hungry fanatics and had no idea that Kir would lie shaking at the thought of burning any more innocents, that Jaina had nearly killed herself when she’d realized what they’d done, that Maltin would sooner share a room with his tormentors forever than set anything living on fire. 

That much terror made people do ridiculous, stupid things. That much terror had set Nichter burying a knife in Kir’s ribs.

All his uncle had done – his former soldier,  former priest-mage uncle – was throw words.

“Mara’s named after your sister, isn’t she?” he finally said, recalling some words to that affect when the girl had been born.

“Close – her name was Mariah. Jana changed it a bit to sound more like hers, make things less obvious. I – I didn’t want her named Mariah. It seemed a bad omen,” Markov grimaced and admitted, “Her being nearby didn’t help the situation. I don’t think I’ll breath easy about that girl until she passes thirteen.”

“Uncle Marcus, as overprotective as I remember you being, Mara is your only great-niece. You’re not going to breathe easy about that girl until you’re dead.”

“It is such a good thing I’m already grey,” the man muttered, Anur laughing quietly.

Watching more stars appear in the sky as the last of the sunlight faded, he finally said, “You’re still my uncle, Markov. I don’t know that I’ll call you that, not if you plan to publicize your stay in Valdemar, but one day I will. It hurt, that you didn’t trust me.”

“I should have at least _listened_ ,” Markov murmured, shoulders slumping with relief.

“Listening through terror is hard,” Anur said flatly, remembering the smell of tar-fueled flames, that horrifying _silence_ when Aelius’ voice was _gone_ , “None of us – neither of us were at our best. Kir was suffering, I was trying to help without having any idea what was even wrong, I was hurting over Delilah and then you didn’t _trust_ me – it was a bad situation all around and I couldn’t tell _why_. If I’d known – well. I’d have at least written my friend was Karsite.”

“You, communicate something potentially troublesome in a letter? Perish the thought,” Markov said dryly.

“Oh shut up,” Anur muttered, smiling faintly.

“We’re – all right then? We can try to – work forward, at least?” Markov asked carefully, Anur considering it for a few moments but really – he’d said what he needed to. And he’d heard what he’d hoped to. There was only one thing that needed to be clarified.

“I’m going to hold a grudge because you hurt Kir,” Anur shrugged, smiling ruefully, “Silly, what I said hurt him worse but – there you have it.”

Markov gave an exasperated sigh, “Of course. Insult someone you care about and you hold a grudge until the end of time. Hurt you and you fall over yourself to let them close again. You forgive too easily nephew.”

“Aelius says much the same,” Anur admitted, the former priest barking a laugh.

“Now that the serious matters are out of the way – what did you do to make so many people hate you enough to set up curse anchor traps?” Anur demanded incredulously, waving a hand vaguely into the night, “More than two, it sounded like they were scattered all over the country! That’s an immense amount of effort!”

“Thinking about it I doubt they were triggered only by me,” Markov said carefully, “I would suspect that there was a – master anchor, of sorts, which they would add signatures to. Priests who fled, I would guess. It would keep anyone with high influence from making it back with word that the Outlanders weren’t demons, ensure anyone who heard their words was also attacked by Furies or at least heard of their death by Furies – _heretic_ hunters – and come back to Sunhame’s version of the One Truth. With them scattered all over the country, no matter how many triggers came back there would always be another layer to stumble upon.”

“Yet another thing to talk to Solaris about,” Anur sighed, but refused to be diverted, “How’d you get your name on that list then? I doubt it was just by leaving. Come on! I’ve missed out on so many stories!”

“Not that many,” Markov admitted, a rueful smile on his face, “You know most of them – remember the one with the powerful man who would kidnap beautiful girls and kill them to ensure only he had their beauty, and how an angry mother cursed him to see only the most elderly and ugly as lovely?”

“Didn’t that story end with an old woman with plague letting herself get caught so he would suffer a horrific death alongside her?” Anur asked, remembering Markov’s truly bizarre fire-side stories very well. They had been a key part of his childhood, along with his mother’s exasperated scolding for scaring them all before bed. That one had been rather tame – Mara hadn’t been the only Bellamy child terrified of Walkers.

He’d asked to be cremated long before he ever knew a word of Karsite.

“That’s how I hope the story ended, but I don’t actually know, he hadn’t died by the time I fled,” Markov shrugged, Anur choking on his tea and spluttering.

“Those stories were all _real_?” he demanded, wide-eyed, “What the – uncle! What did the elderly and ugly ever do to you? How does that make the situation better – what? Why would you – how did you even do that?”

“The story is lacking details,” Markov rolled his eyes, “The angry mother was a brothel owner in Sunhame, the powerful man was a priest named Lastern. He had an eye for pretty youths, boys or girls he didn’t much care. He took one of hers, and he was on my list. We made an agreement – I arranged for enchanted jewelry, basic things, that made whoever wore it lovely and eye-catching. She found people – the old, the ill, whoever the bastard would find abhorrent, and offered to pay their families or loved ones for their loss. It was all consensual on their part, and just imagining Lastern’s face when the enchantments broke once he achieved completion made all the effort worth it.”

“I think you and I have very different ideas of what consensual means,” Anur said, deeply disturbed, before remembering where he’d heard that name and choking again, though on air this time. “Lastern? As in the _former Son of Sun_ Lastern?”

“He did get the job then?” Markov sighed, “I had heard rumblings of a change in Sunhame when I left – I’d hoped he’d disgraced himself enough to no longer be considered for the job.”

_:On one level, I want to introduce him to Seras. On another level, I think it would be a terrible, terrible idea,:_ Anur told Aelius.

_:You should definitely introduce them,:_ Aelius said, sounding fascinated,  _:Imagine – there’d be no quicker way to clear a room! This explains a lot about people hating your uncle so much though.:_

_:Oh I really hope he wasn’t the protagonist of all those stories,:_ Anur thought, feeling faintly nauseated.

_:Well he couldn’t have been the protagonist of that nice one he told about Rolan and the Lost Companion… wait a minute – Anur, did he intentionally retell the story of Reulan and Char with a Companion?:_

“Oh sweet stars you turned a Firecat into a _Companion_?” Anur hissed incredulously, remembering the story Aelius was citing very well. He’d heard it for the first time his second winter home after being Chosen and had found it a fun story without the creepy elements most of Marcus’ stories had – he’d just figured with Lilah his only younger audience Marcus had started thinking up nicer stories. Lilah had scared easily.

He’d even noticed similarities when Kir had told him the story of Reulan and Char in full, had even guessed that it was some retelling of a Karsite tale in Valdemaran terms but he’d have never thought his uncle had  _started_ it!

“Nephew, I used up all of my creativity figuring out ways to extract vengeance,” Markov said frankly, “Evey story I told you was either my own experiences or a Karsite tale modified for the audience. I didn’t retell any of the apocryphal stories about Firecats because there was no Valdemaran equivalent – not until I started to actually accept that those horses weren’t evil. I didn’t even let myself think about that until after you had been taken and I was forced to.”

“...what about the one with the plague of rats that besieged a cook-hall and the only way people could escape was by hiding in barrels and rolling out over them, leaving squished rats lining the streets?”

“That was a little more heavily metaphorical - “

“Did you or did you not squish people by rolling barrels over them!”

“No, no, it was rats, but the cook-hall was actually...”

***===***pagebreak***===***

“I’ve _heard_ some of those rumors,” Kir said the next morning, looking as disturbed as Anur felt. “Your uncle is a very – strange man.”

“He’s crazy nearly to the same degree as Seras, I agree,” Anur said frankly, “With some questions – all his targets were more deserving than Seras’ were towards the end, but his attacks were a lot more involved and a lot more _specific_ – there was a lot more personal investment in his, Seras seemed to consider it a job, more than anything.  Figured out the most efficient way to get it done. Marcus – he thought of it like a _calling_.”

_:Very different from Seras then. He never considered it a passion – most of the incidents he’s confessed to me were rather methodically and logically thought out. It wasn’t until he’d grown complacent in his duty that he started making decisions based more on personal preferences and his feelings than the actual threat level of the individual in question,:_ Kari said, sitting beside Kir.  Anur felt fully justified in keeping these revelations from Kir until the next day, and Kari sticking to Kir’s side like glue was only confirming it.

Neither of them had slept well, even with Kari sprawled across their legs. He didn’t want to think about how bad the night would have gone without the Firecat’s presence.

“Whereas Markov has admitted he was motivated mostly by hatred. I – don’t know how I feel about him telling you those stories as a child. I don’t know that I like the idea of him telling those stories to Mara or Marco and Josef,” Kir admitted, picking his saddle-bags up from the floor of the room they’d shared. There wasn’t an official inn in town, just people who offered spare rooms. They had stayed in Olerus’ small home, in the room intended for visiting priests. Marcus had stayed with another family.

He and Olerus apparently used to work together in various Sunhame-thwarting enterprises, but had butted heads over means and motives and methods too often to ever actually consider each other more than inconvenient allies they wouldn’t risk their own necks to save  but would probably spit on if they were on fire.

The threats of evisceration weren’t serious though, they claimed.

“Knowing that most of them are real?” Anur shuddered, grabbing his own bags and standing, “I just thought he told good scary stories, didn’t have an idea of appropriateness being a soldier most of his life – thought it was – wow, I don’t think I know how I feel about it either. I don’t think I can hear them again without shuddering.”

“Do you think your parents...”

“Ma didn’t, she was angry enough at him telling us some of those stories. If she had any idea he’d actually _done_ or _seen_ some of those things? No, I don’t think she’d find them remotely entertaining. Da? I don’t – I don’t know. He might have some idea but probably not – details.”

“More to discuss with Solaris – is it going to be a continuing problem?” Kir finally asked the most important question and Anur shook his head, having spent more than a little time feeling his uncle out over this issue in addition to asking him directly.

“No he’s – he admits that he overstepped a few times – ha, a _few_ try _every time ever –_ and doesn’t think it’s his place to enforce anything on Solaris’ regime besides. I don’t think he plans on staying long either,” Anur admitted, “If that changes we might need to have someone keep an eye on him. I’m toying with the idea of introducing him to Seras – since they both admit to having overstepped having someone else in the same situation might help?”

_:Or at least give them someone to stay on track with,:_ Kari offered, but he sounded rather hesitant, tail lashing at the air as he padded out the door after them.

“We can ask Solaris for suggestions I suppose – and perhaps Jaina, she’s worked with Seras longer,” Kir said dubiously.

“Aelius did point out that it would probably be the fastest way to clear a room,” Anur pointed out, Kir snickering at the idea and he couldn’t help but smile himself. People would be running off to choke down bile, he was sure, but it would clear the room.

More horrifying was the worry that it might  _not_ .

“Come on then,” Kir sighed, glancing around in the early morning light. Most people had gone about their day’s work after the Ascending Service was over – but Anur suspected Kir was just keeping an eye out for Cora and her family. They’d managed to avoid interacting with her parents the previous day since they’d arrived late enough Cora had been dragging, and Kir was probably hoping that would last up to their departure. “We’d best get to the horses and make sure Olerus and Markov haven’t murdered each other.”

_:I’d have noticed murder. Maiming, on the other hand - :_

“Right, fair point,” Anur said hastily, lengthening his stride.

They  had made it through the Ascending service, had gotten their horses ready, and literally all that remained was attaching their saddle-bags and riding off. If Markov or Olerus did something to delay their departure – delay their chance to get to a traveler’s chapel and sleep for a day or two – they wouldn’t have to worry about killing each other, Anur would kill them himself.

W hen they reached the stables, Devek was standing with Markov and their horses, Olerus nowhere in sight. Anur didn’t bother to hide his sigh of relief and just shook his head at the glances the pair shot him, saying, “I was worried something else had come up. That’s a hint, Koshiro.”

The new captain laughed, shaking his head, “No need to worry. I have nothing else to delay your departure to Sunhame.”

“On second thought,” Kir began, Anur scoffing at him as he secured his bags to Aelius’ saddle.

“On second thought – no!” Anur insisted, “Sunhame is crowded, fine. Sunhame has politics, fine. You know what else Sunhame has? Other people to deal with anchored mage-traps. And spice-cake.”

“Well there’s the selling point,” Koshiro snorted, offering a salute to Kir and accepting his blessing gesture with a smile. “I’ll make sure to avoid invading Valdemar.”

“You’re already off to a better start than Coronad,” Kir assured him, “Be careful with Tehan, you need him on your side.”

“I remember, Father. Thank you – for the advice, and for helping Cora, both of you.”

“It’s… not something I ever thought I’d have the chance to do,” Kir said, choosing his words carefully, “But I am glad to have done it.”

“Safe journeys, you three. Try not to get eaten by Nightstalkers,” Devek offered dryly, the three of them finally mounting up. “I’ll make sure to tell the 62nd that I saw you safely off.”

“Safe travels yourself, Captain,” Anur offered a deliberately proper salute, grinning at Devek’s automatic return gesture before he realized just who was offering him said salute and choking.

He had to get all his teasing of those in-the-know in before Midsummer, after all.

They returned the few acknowledgements they got riding out, Markov quiet and subdued but that was hardly unusual. His uncle wasn’t a morning person – growing up in a land with mandatory dawn services must have been rough. Anur sympathized entirely. There was no sign of Cora and her family though, and Anur was a little saddened by that.

He liked the girl, unfortunate choice in questions aside.

But when they rode past the fields, a distant figure straightened and waved at them – two taller figures nearby doing the same, though with less enthusiasm. Anur laughed quietly and stood in his saddle to return the gesture, Kir simply raising his hand.

_:Thank you, Holiness. The Sunlord smiles upon you,:_ Cora’s voice was uneven – louder and then fading before growing near deafening again – but there. There, and strong, and nothing to be afraid of hearing.

_:Sunlord protect and guide,:_ Kir replied, and there was none of his usual shakiness, at an unfamiliar mental voice. None of the faint horror, the rippling undertones of nightmares soon to come that Anur had heard after the first times he’d spoken with Kir, the times Aelius had piped in uninvited – when Kari and Hansa had spoken, Holy nature aside.

They had helped Cora, certainly. But she had also helped them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... it's over! Huzzah! To the next story!
> 
> *cackles*


End file.
